Awaiting Redemption II
Let’s sail the world—he said.
A joke—
But only if she laughed.
Okay—she said—
Uncertain of what would happen.
Two years of practice and preparation—
They sold everything in their home,
And then,
They sold their home.
How easily life was reduced—
A bag of clothes,
A box of trinkets,
And a boat that bends with the wind.
For five years they sailed—
Open waters, choppy and wild—
Crystal coves and white sandy beaches—
Showers under the shimmering sun—
Dinners on the beveled bow—
Salty sea spray on the face—
Freedom in their tousled hair—
Tethered boats and block parties—
Errands while at port—
Stargazing while at sea.
They were happy.
They were alive.
* * *
I need to go to the hospital—he said.
Not a joke—
But she laughed with misunderstanding.
Okay—she said—
Uncertain of what was happening.
Anchored at a Caribbean port,
They went to the hospital
Where the doctor said—
You need to go to the mainland—
Immediately—
Cancer.
They flew to Miami,
But some fates you cannot escape.
Just three months from diagnosis,
And he was gone.
And she was left alone—
No husband.
No home.
No hope.
Quietly.
Awaiting.
Redemption.
* * *
I’ve sailed the world—she said.
A fact—
She laughs knowing most won’t understand.
But now,
Now I help build up the world.
It seems I keep building the home I sold
All those years ago.
In the countryside of Siem Reap,
Surrounded by flooded rice fields,
She hands over the keys to three homes.
Three homes
For three sisters.
Raised in poverty,
Their mother passed when they were young.
They lived in shacks—
Thin and frail—
That bent dangerously with the wind.
Months of fundraising—
A week of construction—
Volunteers from both near and far—
And today,
A day of celebration—
For now they have a home.
One woman—
Without a husband—
Without a home—
Helps build
Three homes—
For three sisters—
Without a mom.
No one can explain the ways of the world—
But in the aftermath of death,
Life is still to be found.
Pain transformed.
Loss, at last.
Redeemed.