Amber moves a frozen water bottle into the back cupholder.
The sun catches in the snowflakes that patter the car windows. The children’s faces are turned out to the glowing morning. I lift a finger to my own window and brush through the frost, observing the rugged texture my fingerprint carves into its path. It’s so earthy.
Everything is here. I inhale and try to exhale the city. My shoulder knot disappeared yesterday, long before I would line up with the worshipers in church. Owen is dipping down beside me, his head hung heavy from the hour he lost last night. We sprung forward for the last time, and I was here with my family for it. Now the light will forever shine later into the night.
I am ready to catch Owen’s sweet head when it collapses backward onto my chest. I cradle him, smiling at the faint scent of unbrushed teeth.
I am always amazed at how long it takes these children to finish a bagel. Mason, Corey’s son, holds a square inch of cream cheese and blueberry bread and stares out past the frost. No one says a word. There’s no need to speak, no need to eat quickly, for we are not focused on what’s next. We’re fully here, in this moment.
And it requires no effort from them. They know no different.
I mount my heart onto a question toward you, this colossal asking: Can we have that again? Can we return there?
I remember what it was like, leaning back in the chairs during a Gathering, immersed in a different kind of gravity.
The wintry cloud makes me strain my eyes looking for the cliffs. They are hidden behind the fog as we come around the corner. Even as we pass the helicopter, we still don’t see them. The town comes to us in pieces, one at a time. The storage units, then the school, then the rafting shop.
But the sun is promising warmth and simplicity. It says, all is okay. You’re okay.
We have things to talk through today, you and me.
I am interested in you, you say. I roll my eyes and grin.
There they are, snow-topped and covering us. All heads are turned to the right, to those cliffs. They haven’t gone anywhere.
We pull into the church parking lot and join a red Ford, a white Jeep, a black Escalade, a navy minivan. Amber looks back at each one of us with a loving smile.
03.10.24