moments of ritual

once we were driving home after junking|
which is her word for going to a bunch of yard sales
she stopped the car and pulled over on the side of the highway
“doesn’t this view just look like something from a picture book?
look at the way the light is hitting the grass
as it flows in the wind!
and those cows!
wow, i need to take a picture”
she took out her flip phone
wind through her hair
her contentment radiating from her body
she took her picture
and i just stood there looking at her
trying to freeze this moment to come back to
when i needed to feel it again
all of that joy in one body

as the clouds rolled overhead
the light changed
we got back in the car
and drove home
she went on and on about the rolling green hills
and the cows
i could go on and on
about her

as the years go by, i find myself grieving a loss that i haven’t experienced yet
i keep picking tiny flowers
and putting them in thimbles on my window sill
just as we did when we were both younger
i find myself taking pictures
of all the things that she loves
and texting more often
even though she signs off every single text
and thinks gifs are emojis
i hold on to these moments of ritual

how fragile this life is
the days go by and before you know it
the sun is setting
over the rolling green hills

years later
sitting on my friend’s couch
we began talking about light
and shadows
my friend said
“it makes me emotional
how the light changes sometimes”
“me too”, i said
“me too”