In Memory

Last week our neighbor from Arlee passed on. For six years we lived next door to her, our houses sitting on opposite sides of the long dusty drive we shared. Many an evening Tim and I sat at her kitchen table swapping stories and parrying jokes with her husband. Once, she beaded me two slim barrettes - sky blue with red triangles. She wrapped them in brown paper and slipped them quietly in my hand. Christine, quiet and giving, cared for people in a way that was almost sly it was so unobtrusive and modest. On Friday evening, as I left the community center in Arlee where Christine lay with an eagle feather fan in her hands, a full moon was rising over the mountains. The night was purple. The moon was white. I thought of this valley that Christine had loved her whole life and how the moon slid above it, hanging just so over the mountains. And I thought what a perfect tribute to her: it rose as she did - quietly, unobtrusively, and so bright.