on 2005-11-02 @ 9:21 p.m.
To Meet Her
I am sitting in the passenger seat of my dad�s truck, and the windows are rolled down.
I�m not freezing, but my face is numb, and my hands are cold.
My fingers reach out to tug on the strings that tighten my hood, so only my eyes show.
We are traveling down a flat country road, and it seems to stretch on forever. There is nothing around us-- no houses, no people, no sounds. The silence envelops us, and I feel at peace. I breathe in and breathe out. The air is fresh and more fulfilling than any meal I�ve had in my short span of life. In this moment, I am a fish who has been out of the water for too long, and I have finally found my way home.
My dad is leading me to the place where my mom was buried; he has never taken me there before. He has never told me the reason. But now it�s time, and I don�t know quite what to expect.
Every once in awhile we pass by a tree, solitary at its forlorn post, and I wonder, how long has it been standing there, breathing in the same air I�m breathing in now?
Under the lambent moonlight, the world looks a little different. The moors that we are passing look nothing like moors but rather rumbling, rolling waves crashing against some invisible shore. The mountains in the distance look like giants, immobile and strong, frozen in time. I am almost lulled to sleep, but I can�t. Not now.
For the first time on this trip, my dad speaks to me,
�It�s been awhile since I�ve visited her.�
I stay quiet.
�I hope I still know the way there.�
I am still.
�There�s no room on this road for U-turns��
�I know.�
He says nothing for a few minutes then asks,
�Are you angry?�
He looks over at me, and I shake my head.
�I�ve always thought maybe you were angry with me, for not bringing you to see her.�
It�s my turn to look over to him. He keeps his hands on the steering wheel, and his eyes are directed forward. The lines in his face are wrinkled, and he looks tired. No, not tired, he looks old, and suddenly, I am filled with sympathy for this man. This is a man who has gone through life.
�Why now?�
I touch his cheek. He does not flinch. Why, of all times, now? Why is he bringing me to see a mother I have long since forgotten? A mother I have tucked away into my memories�
�Why not earlier?�
He does not reply. I am not surprised; he has never replied.
For a second, the clouds cover the moon, and the world is completely black. Blacker than outer space.
I want to know, but the blackness swallows me whole, and when I am spit back out, I find I have no more words to say.
*
He parks onto the grass, and we get out of the car.
We are walking to the peak of the hill, towards the tree at the top, and from my eyes, it looks colossal, the way a guardian of Heaven should look. My dad is three feet in front of me, climbing with a hunched back, pressing his hands into his thighs. His breathing is ragged, but I don�t think he�s tired. At least not physically. Maybe he�s dreading to see her with me. Maybe he�s selfish and wants her all to herself. Maybe that�s why he�s never taken me before.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
�Just a few more minutes, and we�ll be there.�
I stop climbing.
He turns around.
�Dad��
He looks at me.
�We can stop. I don�t have to go.�
He only smiles and continues.
I follow him.
*
I am finally here.
She walked in beauty, like the night
Lord Byron. An altered tense.
�She chose to stay a romantic even in death.�
My dad strokes the tombstone as if it were her hair.
He tells me about her childhood and her dreams. I know that she hated green onions but loved grapefruit. I know that she flew kites but lost all of them in a fight with the trees. I know that when she had me, she told my dad she loved me more than anything else in this world. I am meeting her, and it is overwhelming. She named me. My heart feels like it�s going to burst.
�When she was young, she was this magnificent bird,� he tells me as his eyes glaze over, �She was wild and tame all at the same time and when I first met her, it was like all my emotions were spilling out, and my heart felt like it was going to burst��
Funny how alike we are.
*
When I open my eyes, I see myself lying next to my dad, and the sky seems a little lighter than it had been earlier this night. I shake my dad to wake him, but he is already awake.
�Are you ready to go?�
His voice is gentler than it has ever been.
�Not yet, just give me a minute.�
I walk towards her, and on this hill, I can see everything below me. The wind brushes against my face, and my hair flies around me. I feel like the wind carries magic. The entire world is below me.
I look up to see the stars.
This is the millionth time I have found myself struck dumb this night.
I have always thought the stars to be anything but romantic, fuzzy little dots that seemed to fade away if I stared too long. Just masses of gas held together by their own gravity. But right now, I am standing before my mother�s grave, beneath a canopy of diamonds that don�t disappear, and they are constant and brilliant and mind-numbingly beautiful. This is what my mother sees.
And I finally understand why my dad has not led me here before. He takes me here at a time when I can appreciate and not grieve. She would not want me to grieve, especially not for her. Not when she is surrounded by so much beauty.
I would like to stand here forever, but my dad is calling my name, so now I have to go.
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