Family Dynamics,  The Sacred Arts

That Song

Okay, breathe. In and out, in and out…

It is Shavasana in yoga, which can also be translated as “corpse pose.” Instead of contorting myself into twisty, impossible positions, I must lie on the mat and try to wipe the grime from my mind. I must be still.

Okay, I need to go to the store after this. Eggs, olive oil, tissue. Or should I try to squeeze in some writing first? Gah, okay, clear mind, clear mind…

I squirm at the itchy spot on my shoulder-blade, and try again, breathing in and out to the music.

Clear mind, clear mind

Then a new song begins.

I am clutching my bouquet in one hand and reaching for my father’s arm with the other. My white dress floats along with me, gossamer panels of fabric barely skimming the ground. My father only asks, “Are you ready?” and I say, “Yes.”


We begin our long walk through the thickly covered arbor, which partly shields us from view. The air is clear; I can smell the sea, like a fresh version of home. Exiting the shaded walkway, an out-of-body experience commences as the faces of everyone I love rise and move towards me…

Including his.

I have never felt so much in one moment. Much. That is the only way to describe it.

All I really take with me on that walk is the satisfaction of this. This is what I waited for, prayed for, wished for, every day for ten years. Ten years worth of smoking birthday candles; ten years worth of breath held through tunnels; ten years of dandelion fluff dancing on the wind culminated in this.

Quiet Moment

I just want to be with him, to erase the questions and have an answer.

The song fades as we step to the side, talking softly to each other, speaking private vows. We look at each other and laugh. The trees rustle and the ocean’s blue saturates all the other colors.

Then I am on my mat again, tears in my eyes and heart full to brimming.

I haven’t heard that song in a long time.



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