On a winding road in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, Dig parks the truck so Abida can pray:
At the edge of the woods, a slender doe broke from the group and stood in place, watching Abida.
Abida moved. The doe raised her ears. Dig felt something shift in his chest, something that bore all the markings of sharpness.
Abida shifted into a crouch, left leg beneath her, right leg back. Her eyes were closed but her face was radiant, her smile blissful, her expression colored not just with rapture but also with awareness, as if she could sense the gaze of the animal her closed eyelids had thus far prevented her from seeing.
Then she prostrated again, and sat again, and she opened her eyes and at last saw the doe. The doe reacted to her gaze by raising her ears just a few degrees higher, but she didn’t move back.
Abida’s smile deepened. She rose to her feet and without a word stepped from the rug and moved toward the doe.
Dig watched. Kept quiet. Enjoyed his exclusion. Abida with her back to him. Moving toward the woods.
Twelve feet from the deer, Abida stopped and reached out her hands. The deer, recognizing a gesture that an endless influx of tourists had rendered all too familiar, took three steps forward and stopped again, and went on watching Abida. The two of them held that posture for all of the time it took for the sun to be gone – the glow to vanish from the trees – and then the doe dropped her head and entered the woods.
Dig got back in the truck and started the engine. Abida got in and fastened her seatbelt. She was breathing heavily. She smelled like earth.
At the edge of the woods, a slender doe broke from the group and stood in place, watching Abida.
Abida moved. The doe raised her ears. Dig felt something shift in his chest, something that bore all the markings of sharpness.
Abida shifted into a crouch, left leg beneath her, right leg back. Her eyes were closed but her face was radiant, her smile blissful, her expression colored not just with rapture but also with awareness, as if she could sense the gaze of the animal her closed eyelids had thus far prevented her from seeing.
Then she prostrated again, and sat again, and she opened her eyes and at last saw the doe. The doe reacted to her gaze by raising her ears just a few degrees higher, but she didn’t move back.
Abida’s smile deepened. She rose to her feet and without a word stepped from the rug and moved toward the doe.
Dig watched. Kept quiet. Enjoyed his exclusion. Abida with her back to him. Moving toward the woods.
Twelve feet from the deer, Abida stopped and reached out her hands. The deer, recognizing a gesture that an endless influx of tourists had rendered all too familiar, took three steps forward and stopped again, and went on watching Abida. The two of them held that posture for all of the time it took for the sun to be gone – the glow to vanish from the trees – and then the doe dropped her head and entered the woods.
Dig got back in the truck and started the engine. Abida got in and fastened her seatbelt. She was breathing heavily. She smelled like earth.
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