Still Life with Sierra • 25 Once she disappeared during a hike. I panicked and ran to find


her. As I rounded a bend in the trail, there she stood, calmly wait- ing for me, smiling her gap-toothed grin. I started to scold and then bent down and folded my arms around her, burying my face in her fine blonde hair.


Q


Te perfect spot appeared. “Over there,” I said and pointed to a small grove of trees—


pines, live oaks, shrubs, an oasis of green. Ed, Peter, and I entered the cool darkness and stood under the


canopy in front of a sandy spot. Ed prayed, “Heavenly Father, we are gathered here today in memory of Sierra.” When the prayer ended, Peter and I shook the ashes out of the box and watched the chalky flecks driſt slowly to the ground. Peter knelt, his shoulders hunched over, and wept quietly.


I could only stare, dry eyed, at the random pattern of ashes that used to be my daughter.


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