15 July 2010

The Great Invisible Divide

Here's a lovely song I heard for the first time today. Very poignant to become acquainted with it on a day when I feel very keenly the force of habit of my own loner-ness (working on it, working on it), but also on the day when I learn my sweet cousin died, almost unbelievably on the anniversary of her own birth. My prayers and concern are with my grieving extendeds across the country, but my heart has drifted across the border into the Land Beyond, where my parents are, my grands and greats, and nearly everyone close to me except some cousins, a couple aunts, an uncle—many of these very distant. I've spent the afternoon and evening imagining the reunion and celebration that is surely underway There, a joyful uproar of family welcome, every last soul of them clamoring to greet and shout and kiss and talk to the beloved newcomer. I'm not in a hurry to get There myself, but sometimes I get homesick enough to think hard about visiting. Haven't found any round-trip tickets though, and a one-way fare is far too costly for me, so I think I'll just keep tending my own home fire and send a smoke signal Heavenward to let the folks know I'm dreaming of them.

Dear Cousin, I hope you're bursting with joy and laughter, now that you've been surprised with such long-missed company. If there are collards in heaven (and it wasn't Nellie Quinn who cooked them), then I know your birthday is complete.

(I don't know who these cute people are, but the Mirah song is an inspiration.)

1 comment:

Becca said...
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