I look past her to the kitchen to see the empty jars, waiting to be filled. Soon we will be carving off the caps of wax with a hot knife, putting the thin frames into the spinner, and the honey will leak out, fall, drip down into a big bucket like faucet-branches. Little molecules, like our separate selves, pouring together and uniting and glowing. Like the dance of yellow cottonwoodleaves. Like waves of golden wheat running. As water is the sea.
Out the window, I see the sky is offering a small dancing snow, evidence of the change that is to come. The flakes spin in several directions, currents pushing the snow sideways. That same sky that offered us red lightning is now offering to coat the world in a fine bonewhite dust.
Oh, Tess.
You can find the flesh
that covers the bones.
Brave people are kind people.
Courage is opening your arms, nodding hello to the difficult universe,
to wind, water, fire, air, earth.
I look at Amber, Alejandra, Libby, gathered in the kitchen. Ed and Slade are coming through the door, chuckling over something. What would be the point in a life without them? I take a step toward it all.
Acknowledgments
Air: With deep gratitude to those who offered wisdoms on the words: Dan Smetanka, Jody Kahn, Laura Resau, Karye Cattrell, Mary Dean, Rick Bass.
Water: For those who sustained with friendship and support: Kurt Gutjahr, James Pritchett, Barbara Clark, Sandra Deraney Reilly, Kent Haruf, Jake Pritchett, Eliana Pritchett.
Earth: To UCross and Earthskin Muriwai for offering a place and sanctuary.
Fire: With deep thanks for those who offered stories and wisdoms on the details: Carol Guerrero-Murphy, Sophia Guerrero-Murphy, David Guerrero, Aaron Abeyta, Debbie Hayhow, Julia Davis, Morgan Smith, Angie Huntley Austin, Lynette Vialet, Luiz Neves, and the people who need to remain anonymous but who are never invisible.
Wind: To all those who have crossed borders of one kind or another.
Red Lightning Page 17