In the Arrowtown cemetery there is a mysterious angel.
Driving into town this last December, I felt the pull of her while still streets away.
I wait until the sun starts to fall, and the hills become golden, glowing beings. It is time.
I move through the heavy warm air towards her, smiling, and whisper hello. Inside me a familiar feeling starts to grow. Excitement and fear turning themselves over and over around my heart, like a stone tumbled and smoothed by the ocean. Will I be able to do it this time? Will she elude me again?
Over the last fifteen years, we have met three times. Standing in front of her I seem to feel my younger selves arrive. I imagine them standing with me, trying to find the right angle, wondering if we'll ever learn to really capture the light. And more than any other time in my life I want to time travel, to grab my 20 year old self and sit her down right here on the grass, and say, "What I have to say to you would fill a book. There is so much more light in you then darkness, you just don't know it yet."
So there I am, somehow past and present, and full of wonder. Above me the hills seem to be watching and smiling not unkindly, while they say, "I see you, tiny human with your light box, and I appreciate what you are trying to do. But here's the thing, your camera was made by man. There is no hope for you trying to record our essence. We are made of light. We are eternal." I wish it wasn't so, but I know it is the truth. I put my camera down and climb a small hill where I sit and try to take it all in. We will meet again. Maybe next time I'll be ready.
