GATE

This is about love, and loss. One is temporary, the other, eternal.

What happened yesterday was profound, I believe, because it never happens. When I am by myself, the conscious thought “I am alone” never occurs to me.

Yesterday afternoon, it did. The late afternoon sun filled the yard I had just cleared of leaves. I paused and leaned on the rake. Alone was the word I thought, that I felt. I was not in a meditative state, was not contemplating existence and its infinite mysteries. I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, in fact, when my mind was suddenly filled with awareness.

I looked across at the entry gate to my small fenced-in area and felt anticipation. Something familiar and wonderful was about to happen, or could happen.

It’s a common occurrence to most of us. The routine of a normal day, interrupted in the best way, by the unexpected arrival of a dear friend.

I was about to have visitors. My mother and my brother would return here, to the home where they had lived for years. Our home, the one they still fill with memories, mementos, ephemera, and love. They would catch me at my “now life,” filling the unsightly holes that make it incomplete.  

I held the moment in my mind for a second that lasted minutes. I remained still, lest the opportunity flee like the doves I had startled while raking.  

Next, I knew, the gate would open, and my brother and mother would enter.

If.

If.

If.

If.

If only I wanted it badly enough.

If I wished for it hard enough.

Done and done.

If only I had faith enough. The size of a mustard seed would be sufficient. A grain of salt and a monolith at the same time.

If only I focused all my energy on the certainty, the reality of the event.

It would happen. My people would return. Not for me or because of me. It would simply happen.

It did not happen.

I failed. My psychological saboteur distracted me. I subconsciously chose to reflect on the burden of my loss, the void of my people’s absence. My effort was insufficient.

There were no visitors. I was alone. I failed to see their return just as I had failed to prevent their departure.

I put my hand out and steadied myself on the wall of our house. I cried, for a minute, for an hour.

Then, looking at the canopy of sky over the empty yard, I received the message.

Keep trying.

I will. I am already halfway there.

END