In the Beginning

The sky was heavy.
The air around her felt empty.
She was suddenly utterly aware of her skin,
And felt a hole begind to grow in her breast that, even a lifetime later, she wouldn't be able to fill.
The Lord had retreated.
The gates of the Garden were closed; an angel stood before them, shifting his weight, his eyes.
She saw an expression of pity fleet across his features and then dissolve into a light she could no longer bear to look at.
She looked at her husband, but for the first time, had no words to express her heart.
And then, not with her ears but with her heart, she heard the words she would cling to for the rest of her years.
The words she could try so hard to teach her children; the words she would always ache to hear again, but would forever only feel--as if an echo...
"Oh, beloved, how I love you."
She turned her back to the Garden, the only home, the only world she had ever known. In her heart she knew her children would know the Lord's grace.
But for the rest of her years, whenever the wind blew, she would know a great ache in her heart.