the visitor

The front porch was swept and the furniture was rearranged. Three large oriental rugs that had been stored away were each scrubbed clean and laid out. One was placed atop the steps leading to the front porch where the other two were laid on either side.

What was the motivation that summer morning which brought solace to the desert heat? ‘Surely,’ I thought, ‘the neighbors must think we will soon be having company.’

When she awoke from her early afternoon nap, we walked outside and past the gated yard onto the sidewalk to admire the new look of the front of the house.

The antique rocking chair that sat on the front porch now rested in the front yard facing the house atop the desert landscape and below the mesquite tree, giving a sense of completion to the morning’s work.

Later in the afternoon the phone rang. The man whom I was named after had just passed.

I walked out to the sidewalk and faced the house, taking a picture of it with the camera.

It was only two weeks before we were to meet again after so many years of having been apart. The thought of introducing him to my daughter was as much anticipated as the smile that it was sure to have evoked. Nothing though is ever lost. Hope is a blind faith, and that is why I am forever praying.

As the days progressed, many fine things came to mind.

*We are here to give proper memorial to a good family man, and surely where there is loss there is gain. Keeping in mind that, what is good for the individual is also good for the whole, and what is good for the individual but not good for the whole is the basis of discord.
He who abandons his family abandons himself, and he who is abandoned by his family finds himself.
So I am here to tell you that the good family man prays for strength and health of the family that is attainable by wisdom. The art of virtuous self-denial, the forbearer of family, is the mother to appreciation. Then what better way to memorialize a good family man than by strengthening the family bond. The establishment of a permanency through embodiment. An embodiment penetrating the fabric of society for its betterment, well into the corridors of the governing body and the halls of the courts. No separation of morality, for the welfare of society is the welfare of the family, and so be it vice versa.
The church, which offers redemption from the sin it thrives upon shall fail us no longer. Its equivalence is that of the mental institution, offering care and treatment yet no cure to give. Its representation, the crucifix, hangs like a shackle upon the soul, littering the eyes, etched in skin. And if jesus were to be put to death today by means of an electric chair, would people think the world of the insanely odious fashion, adorning and bowing before such an abomination?
I believe it is so. So, I do not believe in a commandment where God is said to be a jealous God. I do not believe it possible to interpret that which is clear. I believe in good things. I believe in honesty and love, but a love that is grand and fair.
Which brings me here today to tell you of a quiet man. One indeed so quiet that the slightest affection he were to give would be considered overwhelming. You say that we are here to celebrate, among other things, the faith of the deceased. Then I will tell you of the deceased that he did not believe in your church, yet, I am aware of his salvation. For what finer temple exists than that of man alone and the sermon of his deeds? No one but he carried the weight of his neglect, as only a man must carry his own. Anyone who states otherwise asks to turn a blind eye to the love of God.*

The old rocking chair did not move. Every time it was in view I looked at it with expectation, though as the days passed, the idea that something would manifest about it gradually diminished.

The camera with the picture of the front yard was found submerged in the water of the toilet, no longer functioning, the pictures irretrievable. It had been dropped there by our daughter who, as a baby, is quite curious to see what floats or sinks.

And with acceptance, there comes an ease.

We were in the front yard that early morning before the extreme heat of the day set upon the earth. A white strap of paper underneath the old rocking chair had caught my attention, so I approached it. I had accepted whatever it was to be, even long ago, as an expression of the life that I have come to live. Half suspended in the air, held there in place by a cobweb and flowing gently to the wind.

With reassurance faith resounds ever more lucid, as with love.

A smile came to me that morning. Picking my daughter up off the ground, we went inside the house to get the new camera that was given to us as a gift by our family the day before. Then we went back outside into our morning bliss to take the new picture.

The yard.

The antique rocking chair.

The outer wrapping of a roll of toilet paper.