Earlier that evening, we all sat around the table. Eight friends celebrating nothing in particular. It was our last night. The kids were asleep - upstairs and down. The room was warm. It buzzed. The smell of grilled enchiladas still lingered in the air. We shared drinks. We swapped stories. We laughed a lot. It was beautiful.
Dominoes were on the table. The cards had been dealt. We had begun one game and started a second. Then came two simultaneous cries - from above and below us. Two more followed. A pause. A shift. We weren't to play games that night.
He moved. We followed.
She began to speak. Then he. Open. Willing. Seven. Then, Six. We talked. We walked. We listened. We prayed. We cried. He prophesied. Light. Truth. We traveled so far in just a few hours. Deeper. Further. We pressed in.
"I think we need to leave," he said. Four friends remained.
She asked a simple question, then the river came rushing in. It washed over us. Suddenly, I was drowning. Uncertainty. Inadequacy. Hurt. Pain. Vulnerability. Lies. Lies. Lies.
Again came truth. Quiet. Hope. A new beginning.
Yet beauty remains.