יַהְוֶה

When I walked outside today, the air was alive, teeming with energy. Little white petals swirled in the air like God’s confetti. I put my hands out in instinct, wanting to catch them like snowflakes to see if any two were alike. The sun filtered in and out of the clouds and I imagined a divine, booming voice yelling down, “peek-a-boo!” like what I do with Summit. The trees were clapping their hands softly as the wind amused itself going and doing whatever it pleased. The robin merrily chirped and I didn’t think looking at the sunset chested bird that it was just a flying rat with winds spreading disease and messing on my windshield. My beautiful flower covered lawn looks a little wilder than my neighbors. I pick one of the flowers and smell deeply, enjoying the light scent and earthy goodness. The grass is sweet and flows in and out with each gust of wind, rippling like the ocean. My private cathedral sustained damage during the ice storm but survived. The curved branches that hug the sky in a divine miracle were meant for my eyes only. The pastor at my church said that in the old language the simple act of saying Yahweh was like breathing. I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with the pure, sweet air and breathe out.