The Gift of the Huacachina Dunes
In vast, open spaces the wind hums across the sand, singing to the heavens above. The grains leap into the air and swirl around his toes, fingers, cheeks, and finally the curls of his hair.
His face sparkles with tiny reflections as the glittering sand grasps the last hints of daylight. I strain my ears to capture the tiny, whispers that drift from his lips.
“My favorite part of Christmas is this. The sun, the sand, the outdoors.”
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The Last Drop of Ordinary
The final moments of this life close in on us like the last curtain. Heavily collapsing through the air with a murky cloud of dust left hanging in the air. Our obligations to this life linger for a moment in the aftermath. But, ultimately they break apart and dissolve into infinity; as if they were never there.
The world is quiet and our audience holds their applause, stunned by the closing act. In the far back of the theatre of our life; one significant pair of hands applauds in a delayed yet firm approval. And then one more supporter surfaces, a gray-haired soul seated at the corner of the first row. She smiles sweetly at me as tears streak the soft, peach apples of her powdered cheeks.
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