On Sunday morning, I was in my car on the way to church to meet God and Rebecca, although I’ll confess that I may have been a little more excited about seeing the latter—I can meet God anytime, anywhere. It’s Rebecca that I run into scheduling conflicts with.

The sun was out, and as I drove alongside cornfields and a farmhouse or two with the windows down and the cool morning air blowing past, I felt completely filled. I have never longed so much to be back in Ohio as I did in that moment—I was transported back to the idyllic small towns, the beautiful and perfect fall weather that made me feel that I could not be overcome by anyone or anything. I don’t think that I missed Cedarville so much as I missed the sense of infinite possibility borne of a just-right autumn day. Yesterday morning, I recaptured that feeling, if only for a short while, and I could hardly contain my joy. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! pounded in my brain, keeping rhythm with my pulse, and tangled in my knotty throat. My chest heaved involuntarily with the strain of breathing deeply so as to take it all in, and such a powerful want raced in my veins. I wanted it so badly. I wanted that moment to roll me up inside it and bury me and consume me.

The brittleproud leaves insusurrate my soul, whirling on the currents that bear their beloved dead gently but inexorably to the pavement the ditch the plowed-under field, all the while caressing their foreheads and apologizing I’m sorry please I’m so sorry.