Window:North
Window:North
[From under my favorite tree in the meadow on the hill]
The tall grasses dance in motion at the edge of the meadow on the hill. As the wind quickens, their movements become fast and heavy as they sway shoulder to shoulder. A meadowlark escapes, taking instant flight far from the violent bend of the dance. Thimbleberries shudder beneath the trees, their tissues darkened ripe with red, and delicate—nearly bursting with midsummer’s nectar. Forest tightly surrounds the meadow on every side but one. A window north, the last side is open only to the cloudless evening sky and two distant peaks beyond the river, elevating their snowy fields like banners above the green and blue horizon. They stand—quiet, cold, and still. Cold like steel. Cold as granite in winter. And still as the Dead.
While the sun sets, the two sleeping volcanoes to the north of me lay unmoving against the winds that shake this meadow. Their ragged faces marbled white with melting snow, they capture the day’s last light in the lofty folds of their highest valleys and hold it captive there. The nearer of the two, St. Helens, trembles silently as it let’s out a deep yawn (or so I imagine) while Rainier behind it tucks itself under cloudy blankets drifting in from the sea beyond the Sound.
From my perch in the meadow atop the hill, I stare intently at that second, distant mountain with nothing but its lonely head visible above its pillowy bed. I draw a line with my finger. I draw a line with my heart. Down the hill, across the river, over St. Helens’ shoulder, straight to Rainier—the northernmost point on my horizon. The nearest place to my family, far-away and sleepy in the East. By a lake in Montana.
If I could stand on Rainier this night, I would only have to look east to see Cortnie and the boys. I would gaze toward their windows until every last lantern was dimmed. Kisses and wishes at the speed of light.
With my hand I draw a line to Rainier. With my mind I carve a road through clouds and darkness. Over forest and water. With my heart we turn right at the far mountain and head east to where love sleeps and the future dreams.
Goodnight Cortnie, Eoghan, and Finn.
I can’t wait to see you.
I send to you now; my prayers and hugs like blankets tight.
Look east at sunrise. I’ll send you my kisses,
Travelling westward at the speed of light.
Love [daddy]
