Like You Were Never Gone

Dearest Rachel –

There’s a part of me that thinks this is silly; I really should be back in bed, getting some needed sleep, because we’ve got another tour in the morning. but there’s another side of me that, when I see you in my dreams, I feel I have to let you know about it, and thank you for being there for that moment, like you were never gone.

I’m not entirely sure what prompted it; it may have been the fact that (and I forgot to tell you about this) they gave us little hand towels at the hot springs that (I think) we were meant to use as washcloths, and which native Japanese will occasionally wear atop their heads while soaking in the bath. Well, when it comes to balancing things on one’s head, you know that’s sort of my schtick at Sparks, so I popped it on my head from the moment we got off the bus, and kept it there until we met a couple of bathhouse attendants, who bowed to us in greeting. Fully aware of what I was doing, I bowed in return, causing the towel to fall off my head, and prompting the girls to burst out in giggles.

Between that, and the fact that we watched the Palm Sunday service last night (they don’t seem to have uploaded the Good Friday service just yet), I guess that my mind I drifted back to church. It’s probably a good thing, considering when exactly it is, and how little I’ve dwelt on it up until now – and that could be the subject of a whole other letter that I might compose and send a little later on. I’ve been trying to keep up with my reading, but it generally tends to be a case of missing one day and having to catch up with two days’ worth the next.

Anyway, the dream. To be honest, at first, it would’ve probably been dismaying for you. I think I was one of several leaders driving a route to pick up some of the lower income, kids after school, and bring them to church to work on assembling… things… for Awana. The place looked like a cross between our old fellowship hall and part of that department store (particularly the hundred-yen area; yeah, they have an equivalent to our dollar stores over here) we visited in Niigata. Honestly, it felt like a sweatshop operation, but I think the idea was to keep the kids busy after school and before club. It might’ve been something that could have existed back when we were kids, and we wouldn’t give it a moment’s thought.

But all that was prologue. Most of the time you were around, it was club as normal; well, as normal as it used it be. That seem fellowship hall was now where the kids were playing games (unlike today, where they go upstairs to the gymnasium). Everyone was having a grand old time, running around, and you were cheering them on, just like you used to do. And the kids crowded around you, “Mrs. Larson,” just like they used to do – they all seemed to remember who you were. Really, it was like you were never gone.

And yet, there was some self-awareness to the whole situation. At some point, I had to turn to you and ask you if you minded to terribly if I were to date. You gave me this cockeyed expression, as if to say, “of course, silly” almost like you were wondering what was keeping me from getting on with my life. You even gestured this one particular girl, Valerie (who doesn’t exist in real life, that I know of), and suggested that I talk to her, strike up a conversation (after club, of course), and maybe a relationship.

But not before club was over, and we brought the kids home. Yes, that was on us, since we had picked them up beforehand, just like back in the old days.

It really did seem like the way things were once upon a time; it made me remember how much I miss them, even if other aspects of life were harder for all of us. It made me remember how much I miss you; as if I really needed that reminder.

But it’s always nice to see and talk to you in my dreams. Thank you so much for dropping by; it’s a little treat for my memory basket, sweeter than any sort of candy I might enjoy on a day like today.

But, like with every sweet treat, it had to dissolve, and I had to come back to reality (of a sort – after all, the luxurious life on a cruise ship isn’t exactly what reality is like on a general, day-to-day basis, unless you’re a member of the crew). So here I am, letting you know about it, and expressing my gratitude for being at my side early this Easter morning.

True, nothing was said about resurrection; I didn’t even fill you in about our travels, for that matter. It was just the two of us, working side-by-side in the midst of the overall chaos, just like we used to do. I wonder if you miss it at all – or if you find yourself surrounded by kids up there on occasion, just like you were down here. I hope that, if you do, you’re enjoying it. Then again, what am I saying? It’s heaven, after all; how do you not enjoy yourself?

Anyway, I think I need to get back to sleep. You take care of yourself. Keep an eye on us, and wish us luck. As always, we’re going to need it.