Anniversary

Nearly a year to the day from when we walk out of the wilderness, family gathers again.

Tom and Jim and Ro and I. Spouses Linda, Mark, and my husband. Tom’s sons Don and David. Lauren and Derek couldn’t make it, but David’s kids Sarah and Kaden are here. All three of Jim’s boys: Jack, Daniel, and Mike, Jolyne, toddler Creighton, and their new baby daughter Johanna. Ro’s son Jackson and his girl. In yet another place of beauty and wildness (albeit one we drive to), we are sharing food and wine and laughter and love and grace and words and the tears words bring.

Together we hike into the woods until a spot claims us. From his backpack, Mark removes the heavy velvet bag, and from the bag, the box. Ro takes it from him.

She and Jim and I leave the family standing watch on the trail, walk off into the trees. This Ponderosa pine feels right. Like children in the backyard, we dig a hole beneath its branches.

Ro opens the box, loosens the bag within and gracefully spirals our brother John’s ashes into the hole. A soft gray nest.

We quietly, carefully fill the hole, scattering branches and needles over it, to match the rest of the untouched forest floor. John is now part of the landscape he loved.