Matter – Christmas Day, 2024

It doesn’t matter that there are wars and school shootings, or that the incoming administration may annihilate any lingering hope for our atmosphere. Or that I’ve gained two pounds already this week and have undeniably achieved my father’s face.

All that matters is the familiar heads bobbing through the woods, sunlight sparking bright patches at our feet. We are all happy for this warmer day.

It was Tami’s idea to walk on Christmas. This year, we start from our house, hiking across one of the feeder creeks, over the hill, across the dam, and up the driveway towards the yellow house.

Susan meets us on the road, and she and Tony lead us up their new trails which are edged in straight lengths of downfall.

We all gasp when we reach the labyrinth. Tony and Susan have cleaned up the old Sunday Circle, embodying its spirit in a spiral. We linger, several of us walking the maze, feeling gratitude for the earnest energy assembled here. Matter become energy. All those rocks, each one lifted into place.

We continue towards the burial grounds where Zafer lies with Chris, and Mark, Lyle’s parents, and Tami’s father, Ed. I move from bench to bench, beaming a silent “Merry Christmas” towards each pine straw covered mound. I think about their essence, the sound of their voices, and picture their molecules dispersed.

Bob is laying on the ground forty feet away and I get up to see what’s going on. “I’ve picked out our gravesite,” he says. “Come lay beside me.” I kneel on the soft earth, stretch out, and stare at the sky through the tall pine crowns before closing my eyes.

My friends murmur contentedly nearby, our buffer against the uncertain world outside the neighborhood. Nothing else matters but the feel of the earth cradling my hips and shoulders, the warm shaft of light at my throat. A cardinal sings and I exhale deeply.