His face and eyes radiate tranquil happiness. Pride. Satisfaction. Paused in the pilot’s seat, he appears to be tucking the memories of this essential day into a deep, sacred place. [...]
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Time stood still. Was this the moment I had prayed for? [...] A wild rose blooms in northern Michigan. As trees are felled around it, as the earth heats around it, as invasive purple loosestrife inches nearer to it, a wild rose blooms in northern Michigan. It is a beacon of beauty, a light to another world, a slight jar in the door out of desolation so that it does not slam shut on goodness and beauty and peace. [...] “Well, have you thought about names?” These words enter the conversation like a hammer meeting a nail. I picture her rubbing her palms together, assessing me from under her eyebrows—even over the phone wires. I know where she is going with this question. [...] “Mom, there is nothing else to say.” He motioned for me to drive forward. Away from her. Away from the fear and the chaos that slid between our hopes and us. [...] |
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