The Banyan Tree

Remembering

I am standing in the midst of the great banyan tree. Birds are laughing at gray monkeys swinging from limb to limb. The sunlight streaks like shimmery threads through the leaves. 

A burst of light - candles all around. Someone is talking about memories. I am not listening. Only taking in the sight of the warm, glowing candles. People's heads are bowed low. But not mine. I want to see this service - not hear it. See the closed coffin where he lies - cold, preserved, completely spiritless. 

A leaf glides away almost feather-like swirling in the hiccups of the wind. It lays at my feet and I am tempted to crush it with my foot. I know it will make a crackly sound. 

Red turns to green. Electric blue fades into the sky. I am watching fireworks during Independence Day. People gathered in huddles, standing to see the colors burst and glow in the distance. The crackling bursts leave smoke trails scarring the night sky. He is laughing, so handsome. He bends down to kiss me and my spine tingles. I love him. 

There is an abandoned cobweb spun intricately in a nook of the banyan. The white sinewy sticky threads look like lace. 

We are at the dance. I am wearing a pink dress. He pins a corsage to my dress, a white rose with white lace. I wonder if he'll ask me to be exclusive with him. Sigh, a young girl's dream. 

This banyan calls me close. I go lean against its trunk - strong and steady. A breeze brushes across my face - and I know it's God's kiss. The light is dwindling and I hear God's sigh along with mine. God is this banyan. God is with him. God is in me. Everything and everything else, it has always been and always will be God's design.