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We stood in a midnight field
that first summer after Christine's death,
and watched the stars shining through the Milky Way.
We joined our hands together,
the four of us: Mario, Robert,
Amanda (who is our almost child), and me.
We were far away from town,
from the eternal electric glow
of street lights, traffic signals, and neon lights.
We stared upward at the stars
sparkling brightly in a moonless sky,
and at the hazy white of the Milky Way.
Suddenly, a single light
separated from the sky full of stars
and flashed a bright line across the Milky Way.
As the light faded, her hand
joined with ours. None of us moved or spoke.
For a few breaths, we were one beneath the stars.
