Nathan and Jess

By Reverend Doug Kraft, November, 2009

Nathan, my oldest son, walked into the house with his partner, Jess. Their eyes were puffy with fatigue. They smiled.

Over supper they told us of moving their belongings from their Berkeley apartment into a U-Haul truck, driving to Oakland and packing everything into a freight pod bound for Canada.

We stayed up much later that night than we had intended.

In the morning, Jess made scrambled eggs for everyone. Damon, my youngest son, made coffee. “I hope it meets your standards,” he joked to his big brother. Nathan grinned. We lingered around the breakfast table in the morning sun.

As they put their things into the car, I reminisced, “Do you remember your first day of school?”

Nathan said, “No.” He and Jess looked quizzical.

“You were going to afternoon kindergarten,” I said. “We walked up the street to meet the school bus. It was large enough to hold two football teams. But when the door opened, it was completely empty except for the driver.

“You walked bravely up to it on your own. Because of the slant of the street, the bottom step on the bus was even with the top of your head. You stood looking up, not knowing what to do.

“I walked over and lifted you in.

“The bus pulled away. I gazed blankly up the street for several minutes after it had disappeared. The image of you was frozen in my mind: my tiny son next to the huge yellow bus. I felt like I had picked you up by the scruff of the neck and belt and tossed you over the back fence calling out, ‘Have a good life!’

“I hurried home, hopped into the car, drove over to your school and sat in the shadows watching for your bus. You got off okay.”

I paused, my eyes down slightly. “This time I can’t drive over. You’ll be in Vancouver.”

Both Nathan and Jess laughed.

I got out my camera and took a picture of them standing in the family room – Nathan resting his cheek on Jess’s head. Then I took a picture of them strapping themselves into the front seat of his Subaru.

The car backed down the driveway, paused and headed north. I gazed blankly up the street for several moments after it had disappeared.

The next day I walked by the river. The squirrels were busily burying nuts. As the afternoon shadows grew I thought, “Why did I take a picture of them fastening themselves into the car?” My eyes moistened as my smile deepened.

Fall is a time of letting go, shorter days, Dia Des Los Muertos … There have been a number of deaths amongst us this year. Some letting go is temporary or seasonal. Other is permanent. But life does not let us hold onto anything forever – not even those we love most.

When we are open, this release is poignant. It may not be easy. But it helps the love grow deeper and richer.

May we be present to what is.

Namasté,

Doug