IDs: Creative photos credited to Pinterest. On the left, a forest luminous with blue flowers and a soft rainbow of foliage overhead and along the floor. In the middle, a digital painting of glowing moonflower lilies - blue and lavender - with butterflies. On the right, another luminous forest with pink firefly lights and a bioluminescent pathway.
I’m in a black garden with my friend when younger me shows up out of nowhere. Almost out of nowhere. She probably sees our friend and rushes up with an obnoxiously loud squeal and squeezes him with all her meager might.
“Anaconda Squeeze!” she cheers.
My arms are folded and I roll my eyes, refusing to watch my stupid gag. Instead, I observe the inky woods surrounding us. It’s unnaturally dark, the tree line fusing with the sky, if there is one. But there is sufficient light from the plants, flowers, and fireflies. We are gently yet evenly illuminated by blues, whites, and purples. A warm breeze rustles the branches like rain.
Little Me, rather than asking insightful questions of our friend, starts asking silly things like “what was the Garden of Eden like? What was it like being dead? Can you turn this stick into a snake? Pretty please? For me?” She starts whacking the stick through the black grass to watch the blue embers waft up. She starts laughing with pretend mania, trying to make us laugh at her.
I see right through her histrionic annoyance and my nose raises. I turn around to keep walking, my arms still crossed. I glance at my friend to show him I want to leave, but his expression freezes me.
He’s still watching with a smile, his attention fully fixated on Little Me. He doesn’t look the slightest bit annoyed, his vague adult face creased with laugh lines. He picks up a stick and joins her, chuckling. Blue sparks dance around them as their exploring turns into a sword fight.
I’m forced to look at her as she beats the ground all around the clearing where we stand. She wears a t-shirt printed with blue and pink butterflies and some obscure Bible verse paired with blue nylon shorts. I realize that I still dress the same, despite my changed tastes. I’m wearing a crop top and joggers with pink tennis shoes. Comfort has always come first, but always – ALWAYS – in cute colors.
My eyes stick to my shoes. Little Me and our friend almost look like a better matched pair than he and I do. Than me and I do.
Little Me finds a stick of satisfying length and offers it to me.
“C’mon! Fight with me!”
My hand is slow to take it, but soon we’re clacking back and forth. It’s not like I’ve received any sword training since then, but I still manage to block almost every time.
---
As the three of us continue through the starry woods, Little Me inspecting almost every luminous flower we pass, but keeps close enough to our friend – since she’s still scared of the dark. There’s sparse quiet ; she keeps bombarding him with stupid questions. And yet, I listen to every answer as I lag behind just a little – since I’m still scared of the dark.
Little Me trips hard on something and skins both knees. She cries out to our friend to fix it. At the sound of her whining, my shoulders cringe and my brow furrows. I look away and think that she can’t shut up any faster. When she doesn’t, my eyes flicker back to her. I fully see the bloody circles on her knees and a scrunched, red face wet with tears. A face that makes me want to run away or bundle her up in bandages all at once. My feet, angled back down the path, turn toward her.
Friend is dabbing ointment on her knees, reassuring her with a matter-of-fact voice and steady gaze. Concerned, yet unphased. As he applies big patch bandages on her, and wipes her tears and nose with his hands, pain seeps to my surface like black mold.
How often he has been so gentle with me the same exact way.
He looks at me, now with grey hair and beard, and I remember where I’ve seen that look before.
For but a second, I see Dad’s outline flash behind him like white neon, matching his keeling posture. I feel his presence here. Is his ghost with us? Almost. It’s slightly different; I can tell. He’s not here. But my friend is.
My friend. My father.
My invisible wounds, worn as leather, cut free from my eyes and leave my chest hollow. The familiar taste of salt coats my cheeks.
He stands and looks at me with a knowing only he possesses. My squared arms fall to my sides and I step forward, but he rushes the distance and secures me in a hug. A hug I have longed for from Dad, but right now, I want no one else. My hands grip his clothes and my eyes clench shut on his shoulder.
Little Me asks why I’m crying too and assures me, “I’m okay!” She comes up to us on her feeble legs and tries to span her short arms around us.
Father’s right hand lowers to cradle her head; his left, mine.
---
We lay with our heads together in the cool, dark grass under a canopy thick with moonflowers. Their delicate faces gleam with the color of the milky moon, giving just enough light for me to see Little Me holding one to her nose. She puts the flower behind an ear and picks three more. She gives me one and I copy her.
Father is resting his wrinkled eyes with a relaxed smile.
She puts a moonflower behind his ear and giggles. “There! Aww, don’t you look pretty!”
She nestles back into the grass, caressing the third moonflower. She starts telling us about a race of flower people that I know for sure she is making up as she goes.
I close my eyes and listen too.
The darkness makes the fragrance rise.
Some months ago, I prayed with tears for God to help me view Him as a father. I struggled with fulfilling that need in my Heavenly Father ever since my earthly Dad passed away. I knew it was the right thing to do - giving God my longing - but I just didn't see Him that way. To me, He's my closest friend and Savior. But that's it. I was so tired of toughening myself up in order to feel protected on my own. I wasn't getting my Dad back anytime soon enough, and my sore longing for that relationship again had nowhere else to go. The only way this could change in me was with His help.
This is what I saw in my mind one night this past September as I listened to the song "Moonflower" by Abbie Gamboa on repeat. I'd heard it before, but that night was different.
What He showed me was His answer.
I didn't originally think I'd ever share this one, but perhaps it's time to take that leap. For whoever else needs it too.
I doubt you'll ever see this, Ms. Abbie. But if you do, many thanks. Love used your song to bridge the gap.
"Moonflower" by Abbie Gamboa
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
What do you do when you're all grown up?
The heart of a child but you gotta be tough
Scared to death to be alone
Feeling around for a hand to hold
[Pre-Chorus]
Why did I start to think
I can't walk if I can't see?
When did I forget to need You?
I will let myself be weak
A vulnerable dependency
Strong enough to let You lead me
[Chorus]
Through the dark
I wanna be where You are
Even through the dark
I wanna be where You are
[Verse 2]
What do you do when the darkness falls
And nobody thought to leave the light on?
Well, I don't rеally like this place
But I will trust You anyway
Take my hand and lеad the way
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