Today, down by the Saturday market, next to the rock sculptures, near the cherry trees, a young wedding party took pictures. They were in a different kind of wedding attire – perhaps traditional for their culture – the women wore tight, sexy black dresses, the men wore red shirts and black pants, with black cowboy hats. The bride wore a full-skirted, red gown bedecked with iridescent sequins, some of which created a shimmering, purple-blue-red river cascading down the front, brilliant in the sun, a sparkling gold bouquet in her hands. It was anything but tacky. She was a fire goddess, a beautiful young phoenix in human form.

We had been playing with Adahlia in the grass several yards away. But Adahlia is at a stage where she does not necessarily want to actively play with me all the time. I know she loves to be with me, but sometimes, when she is not low on blood, I can leave her for a time in the company of her father and all is well. So, after several minutes, my curiosity could no longer wait. Leaving Adahlia in the grass with her father and grandmother, I walked toward the wedding party. I skirted them, drinking in as much as I dared, not wanting to offend or stare. On my way back, I skipped lightly on the rocks. In such tiny moments, I still find great pleasure in the freedom and lightness of my body, the memory of the heaviness of pregnancy and the weariness of my illness still so fresh.

I was strolling quickly, and I was probably gone no more than 3 minutes. But apparently Adahlia had crawled after me, as far as she felt she could, and then gave up, crying. Her father then scooped her up and was trying to console her as I returned.

I had no idea.

I had not heard her.

And when I found out, my heart sank. My stomach followed. And I wished someone had called out to me, so I could have turned around, seen her, and gone back to her. It breaks my heart that I kept walking away.

***
She still reaches out for me in her sleep, seeks my skin with her fingertips. I curl my arm over and around her head, kiss her face when she moans and cries out in her sleep. She rolls away, her back to me, and then rolls closer, her arms flung over mine, her leg hitched up on my waist, as close as she can get.

***
Fire phoenix, jewel of summer
Shimmer on the tide
Do not turn my eye.

Leave me to the moonlit shadows
Let winter settle softly in the night.