Dear Jonah,

      We took you to a memorial of an old friend's wife that your dad used to work for. It was in Draper at a plot of land that the Audubon Society bought and is now a refuge for birds and animals. Tree Utah has planted thousands of trees there and your dad and uncle Tyler have both worked there. We used to go there all the time. It was an amazing experience to go back with you. We were greeted with a big hug from Keith, an 87 year old man who works at the plot and carries around an oxygen tank. He hugged us both together-- you were strapped on the front of me in the baby bjorn. We stood in a circle while Vaughn did a small memorial. He talked about the evening star and seven conscious realms in Buddhism and how we would plant seven trees with one in the middle where his wife's ashes would be laid. It was pretty cold for a night in May. The words, the place, and the cold made it quiet enough to fall into a place of reflection. I could hear your short breaths and feel them on my chest--a brand new life, new cells, new skin, new lungs. Across the circle I could hear the puffs of an oxygen tank--old life, wrinkled skin, worn out lungs. A breath, a puff. In the middle of the circle was Vaughn, the ashes of this wife running through his fingers and into the soil. Once full of life--bones, skin, breathing lungs--now lie covered in soil, nurturing new life.... like a hug in a baby bjorn.

A breath,
An ash,
The evening star,
A puff,
An owl,
A cosmic chart,
Some pain,
Some dirt,
Some hurried words,
Some friends,
Some loss,
Some trees for her,
A sigh,
A glance,
An eager face,
A memory,
A moment,
A rescued place,
A reminder,
An homage,
A feminine prayer,
A breath,
A puff,
A circle to share.
       --AM May, 2012