What happens when a raindrop lands in a river? Does it reach nirvana and become one with the watery infinite? Do its molecules dance in the current, and when they sing with joy for being free do we hear it as the sound of water rushing?
And what about the raindrop that misses the river and lands on the beach? Does it reach nirvana when it splashes on the sharp dry sand and spreads out, thinner and thinner, until it reaches all the other raindrops falling and spreading out?
Jesus sitting on the stone doorstep of the tomb with the afternoon sun in his face, he can't believe it's finally really over. He picks up a handful of sand and laughs while he watches it run through his fingers and blow away in the afternoon breeze. There are shrubs and plants all along the cemetery path, lavender and aloe, juniper and desert rose. He looks at them and thinks to himself, wow, I've never really seen green before. He picks a tangerine from a bush by the side of the path, peels it and puts a piece in his mouth and he's amazed, nothing has ever tasted so good!
The sun's sinking lower now, he has to squint if he looks to the west. In the distance he sees figures moving up the path toward him and he can't help but smile as they get closer. His mother comes first, carrying a wooden tray piled high with hummus and taboule and fresh baked pita bread. Behind her comes Peter with a platter of gefilte fish, followed by John with a tray of dates and almonds and cherries. Jesus laughs out loud as he realizes he's never felt this hungry before in his whole life.
His eyes fill with tears of joy as the group gets closer and he sees all his friends are there. All the apostles, all the lepers he cured, all the guys from the carpenters' union. Then he saw her, bringing up the rear, looking shy and hopeful. Magdalene, dearest Magdalene, you waited for me, didn't you?
An hour later and the sun is going down while the band is getting started. Bach is on harpsichord, Handel on violin. Rev. Gary Davis is holding his guitar, his blind eyes turned to the sun. Mahalia Jackson is standing ready at the mike on center stage as the band tunes up. Finally Leonard Bernstein steps up on the podium and picks up his baton.
By now it's dark outside and everyone's having the time of their lives. Jesus' mom is dancing with Peter while the band plays Rock My Soul In The Bosom Of Abraham. Judas is dancing with Martha, when the band takes a break he walks over to Jesus, says, "God, J! I'm sorry! I really thought I was doing the right thing!" Jesus laughs, slaps him on the shoulder, says, "Don't sweat it bro!" Then Magdalene steps up, says, "Dance with me, Jesus?"
"You'll never have to ask twice, luv!," says Jesus as he takes her hand.
Statues made of sand, melting in the rain. Gods and beautiful ladies, their sandy hands and faces grooved with little rivers and lit by lightning from a purple sky. All is noise, roaring water, crashing thunder, lightning sizzling, but the statues are calm. Their eyes look to heaven, they're going home soon.
Winter ends tonight, a little after two in the morning the sun will pass the equator on its way back north. The rain that's falling outside will change from wintertime rain to spring rain, from cold and blue to warm and green. Somewhere so high above the clouds the winter constellations are slipping down below the horizon. Orion is carrying a snow shovel on his shoulder, hanging from his belt is a pouch full of memories of Christmas. Aquarius is carrying the empties from the New Year's party along with his jug of water. Pisces swims the stellar ocean with a Valentines card in his fishy mouth. One by one they slip out of the present, leaving only memories like old photos in a shoe box.
It won't be long before Earth rolls over, and stretches and yawns....
Emily is sitting on my bed wearing my Yankees cap, tossing a baseball in the air and catching it. The cap is too big for her and it keeps slipping down over her eyes, she smiles each time she pushes it up with the back of her throwing hand, while the ball is in the air. It's almost like a new way of playing jacks; throw the ball, tip the cap, catch. She told me she played Little League as a girl, first base. She tosses the ball to me where I'm sitting here at the computer and we play catch across the room. She does this whenever I'm feeling low, she knows it always cheers me up.
She also loves reading every word I write about her. When I showed her "Ghost Wedding" her eyes welled up and for a moment I couldn't tell if she was crying or laughing, then she turned on that incredible smile, while the tears ran down her cheeks. God, she never looked so beautiful as then!
When she finished reading she looked up at me and asked, "Jim, did you really like me in that outfit? I was so afraid I'd look like a dork! I only wore it because it was in your mind after you watched the Cirque du Soleil video, but when I was putting it on I was like, God, he's gonna laugh at me!" True, it wasn't really her style. She's much more into jeans and boots and the occasional denim skirt. But Em, if you could have seen yourself, wow! You had me, right then and there. You melted me and I was yours. When I struck the flint and steel, and lit the candle you held, it was forever.
And now it's about one in the morning, and you're curled up in my bed under the covers wearing my Yankees t shirt for a night gown, so still and so silent. There's a little soft fragment of a smile on your lips, and I'm melting all over again looking at you.
It's all so quiet, so happy and complete, and in a few minutes I'll climb under the covers with you and hold you tight until morning comes.
One of my favorite things is riding through the city with you in a cab on a stormy night. I love looking out through the rain streaked windows at the neon and the water, at the shiny slick pavements and the dripping trees. Outside all's cold and wet and raw, but inside we're cozy and dry, talking about the show we've just seen. And when we get quiet I listen to the wipers sounding like a heartbeat, and I always think of Me And Bobbie McGee...
And when we arrive home, I always wish the trip had taken a little longer.
Tonight I'm remembering you sitting cross-legged in the summer grass, the sun putting highlights like new pennies in your hair. You smoothed the denim skirt over your knees, pulled your hair back into a pony tail, and turned your face gratefully to the summer sky. Your cheeks showed just the hint of a summer tan. The air smelled of salt water and hydrangeas. You passed me a peanut butter sandwich and laughed at some joke I'd made, and you looked so totally happy that I had to laugh myself. Of all the good times we've shared, that was one of the best.
It's a nice memory to have on a winter's night, Jane.
I never knew that marble could make such a cozy pillow, or that a blanket of snow could be so warm and soft. I never knew a feeling like this before.
Here under the covers there's a glow the color of sunrise in the desert, and wherever it reaches the air is warm and ripe with wildflowers. And I see the glow comes from your heart, it's actually shining inside you. Your heart is small and perfect, and when I hold you close to me the light shines through us both and we become one, a being of perfect light. God knew what She was doing when She thought of this!
She danced her way across the room in a slow funeral waltz, her skin as white as snow, her eyes rimmed in black, her lips the color of a bruise. Her hair was white as icicles, her face younger than morning. She wore an innocent cotton night gown, stockings and garters, all purest white. Her fingers circled a small white candle, around her neck a white cross hung from a white chain.
She stopped in front of me, just as I'd prayed she would, and in that moment all sound and motion stopped. We faced each other on a bare stage under pumpkin colored firelight and she stood before me in first position, holding the candle to her breast.
She reached up and touched the Om that hangs on a silver chain around my neck, and I noticed there was something else on the chain too. I ran my fingers over a small sliver of flint and a piece of steel, hanging on that same chain. She leaned closer to me, holding the candle between us like a shield, and mouthed the word, "Please?"
I didn't even stop to think, I just undid the chain from around my neck for the first time in more than a decade, and struck the flint and steel above the wick of the candle she held. The spark kissed the wick and a flame was born, and the corners of her mouth turned up in the happiest smile I'd seen in a lifetime. She held the burning candle in her left hand, and her right hand twined around my left and we both squeezed like we never wanted to let go.
And we turned and walked back down the aisle, back into the lives that are our own and nobody else's, and we couldn't help but laugh as we kissed.
