I Was Made to Breathe Water

“Come over here,” I pulled my sister’s arm. “Look at those woods.”

The Michigan pines stood perfectly spaced in soft grass. Through slender trunks the sun was setting in the valley below.

“Look how pretty that is. Doesn’t that make you know there’s beauty we were made for that’s always out of reach on earth?”

“But it’s the woods,” she said. “There’s bugs and itchiness.”

“Whatever, you think I’m crazy.”

“No, I feel that way about water. When I see water, I just want to soar over it and dive in.”

“Exactly. God made us to know this isn’t what we were created for.”

“You mean I was made to breathe water?”

We laughed, but we spent the 10 hour car ride home amazed by the clouds. I know why the naturalists believed in transcendence.

The towering clouds in bright blue made me want to take a nap in paradise. But my sister had to focus on driving, and gases won’t support me in midair.

Even in our happiest moments, there’s so much that isn’t quite right.

“Ricky laughs at me,” she said, “because when I hug him I’m always trying to get closer. There’s never enough skin contact.”

All I can think is me too. Something within me remembers the Garden of Eden, it knows guilt and clothes should never have separated us.

Wedding days and gorgeous scenery just pinprick heaven’s veil. When I realize I can’t transcend, I can’t pass to the other side, I stop and ponder.

I let the beauty fuel my imagination. I let the glimpse of love and connection sit in my heart as I ache for home.

I imagine paradise, and then I try to imagine an even better paradise. I wonder and smile because I know when I walk into heaven my imagination will look like a coal heap.

 

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