All Souls Day,
Natalie Serianni
A damp, dark end to daylight saving time. The wipers swish all the way to Sea-Tac. Delta Terminal. Curbside check in. Raindrops. Hatch up, bags handed. Close hugs. My reflection in those airport sliding doors – and his … and hers. A trinity: toddler with wave-like emotions, a father of three with 70 years of life, and a daughter, straddling, struggling, in the middle of it all.
The reluctant nucleus. I pull her from the car seat as he heads into the sliding door; a“ Wait!!”“ She wanted to see you, to send you off, but didn’ t want to say good-bye.”
Then … turning around … embrace; turning in. Generational depth: Differing heights; rough, sun-worn gentle hands grabbing for a small apple-pie face, all cheeks. Holding me tight. Her heart is so big, he says, and, now, mine – exquisite swelling. It’ s him, and her. And him … with my mother, a distant life away.
Remnants of her – 70s-faded photos on a fridge, but sealed in heart-places. Holding. Hugging. This web of links to life – giving and receiving; hands gently rubbing round bellies; the unique, the universal. Tired eyes with grateful smiles.
Bags by the door. Fumbling for keys and carry-ons. That autumn morning, I saw the cataract clouds as he drank his coffee, brown and yellow leaves dropping in the yard behind him. The future was clear – his, and mine. Decisive displays of light-ness, digging into the whims of what might be. All souls included.
After the snap of buckles, the heater hummed. Quiet. Salty tears well; a blinker to merge left. Home.
November 1 – Dad: 10:35 flight Seattle to Richmond, Chicago layover
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