What Irremplaçable Means

There have been experiences in life when I have felt, for a fleeting moment, what irreplaceable means.

I was running down a beach with Matt, still in pajamas, to get away and out of the house . People didn’t know we were in love yet. The beach was empty as far as I could see; the sky was hushed and low, white-like the color of bolivarian cream. A storm was coming, but the sea was waiting for it utterly still. It was so still that I could see crabs around my feet, and I jumped, frightened and laughing into Matt’s arms, and then I stayed there. And his eyes were the blue of the American anthem, the same color as the silent tide pools, and everything was breathless.

And I saw, for one still moment, what irreplaceable means.

I was warm in front of the fire, sitting with my family and my three best friends. It was a breath of fellowship before I went back to New York, where people don’t know me, or hear my heart when I speak. I was thankful, like I never had been before, for these eight people who knew me, and love me for better or worse.

And I saw, for one intimate moment, what irreplaceable means.

I was falling asleep in my bed when Melissa climbed in with me. She became a woman since I was home last. She shares the Bible verses she’s been memorizing and I feel like I get a glimpse into this brand new person, who is somehow more like a friend than a little girl. We find that we have both, ironically, memorized the whole chapter of “The Mad Tea-party” From Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, and the 51^st Psalm. We say them together. Erica comes in from her bedroom because we are making too much noise, but leaves again because we are only funny to ourselves. Melissa’s eyes are brown, like the Gobi desert, and I watched when they closed for the last time that day.

And I saw, for one quiet moment, what irreplaceable means.