4. The Drive Home

I’m in the backseat of my brother’s car and we’ve just left Grandma’s coffin at the family plot. Two men, in dirty boots and jeans are working the machinery to lower her under the ground. They’ll place the pile of dirt, concealed during the final prayers behind the tent covering the site, over her. Then, they will smooth over the top and lay the cut up sod over the grave, fixing it so it will look as if nothing had been disturbed.

Ashleigh Rose, my niece, is strapped into the car seat next to me. She’s a happy baby – plenty of giggles and singing and noises. Ashleigh doesn’t talk yet, but she’s beginning to learn the basics of conversation. One person makes noise for a time, then pauses and the other starts to make noises. They go back and forth like that.

Ashleigh looks over at me, peeking around the blue plaid padding of the safety seat, her eyes shining and sings out a string of meaningless syllables. I reply, remarking about the weather or how pretty her dress is, and we go back and forth like that for a while.

When I say something she thinks is funny, she smiles and laughs, her whole mouth opens exposing five baby teeth and a pink, little tongue. The rest of her face scrunches up, she squints her eyes and flails out her hands. Wanting to keep hearing the musical laughter of a child who doesn’t yet know about worries or sickness or loss, only love, I reach out to tickle her tummy and on her ribs, the way she likes it.

She laughs even harder, her whole body shaking as she tries to push away my fingers, loving the attention. I play-fight with her for a little while, but let her win. She holds two of my fingers, one in each of her soft hands and chortles softly.

We ride like that, my hand in hers’, until we reach our destination.