In the most common place by the shyest lake that had really nothing to brag about, a cabin, a shack really, stood hidden in three about fifty feet from the water. We found our way there on an afternoon hike while we were just talking about life. We unpacked our bedrolls and stuff and lit a fire.
By the fire we watch the stars and spoke of the people who came before we were born. He mentioned his ancestors who traveled here and the troubles they found. I told him of my grandma whose brother tried to marry her off to some old man she didn’t know when she was just 16. We felt like we were telling stories of characters from novels, not real happenings.
We cooked on the fire. It was beans and bread. We drank wine from a bottle and wondered where our we’d be in ten years. Every now and then, one of us would go into the shack to find something softer to sit upon, a blanket, a pillow, an old rug. When the night brought a chill we moved closer to the fire as we got closer to each other. We shared our fears, shed our tears, unbundled our hope and our love. In our own way, we wished we were immortal, and we wished we were done with the trouble of living.
We fell asleep outside. Our stuff in the shack fifty behind us.
Early, early on, the morning was so silent, it woke us with the music of the color. We looked to the sky and what we saw was unbelievable.
Somehow we knew that God and the angels had been watching while we were sleeping.
The most unbelievable things to our eyes can put faith in our hearts.
−me strauss Letting me be