Every Beautiful Mile

by Ashley Manley

The weird thing about grief is that one minute, I feel fine, and the next it’s as though my heart is being scraped across a cheese grater.

Between the ugly words Finn said to me and the beautiful ones we shared in our stories, something shifted in me ever so slightly. Like a weight had lifted just enough to remind me how it feels to not constantly carry something so heavy.

“Some people say time heals all wounds, but I always thought laughter was the real salve for a wounded soul. You all need to go out there and find some.”

“Well, accordin’ to yer words, maybe der’s a lot more magic in dis world den we give credit to,” he says. “Dem kids o’ yours? Perfect timin’. I don’t pretend to be a smart man, but what if ya had ’em a little lata or soona? Reckin’ we don’t know if dey’d be de same folks. Magical, as you call it. Birds migrate. Certain flowers grow only in certain areas. Sometimes we see rainbows paint de sky after a storm. Ya boy told me y’all just got to see sponges from de floor of de Gulf. Sounds special from where I’m sittin’. Jubilees happen all ’round us if we know where to look.”

“Eitha way. Life, death, light, darkness… it’s all magic. Timing and perfect circumstances spontaneously comin’ togetha for a phenomenon of one type or anotha. Funny ting about it, dough, we forget it’s all temporary. It has a season. No jubilee lasts forever—hell, we lucky if it lasts til de day breaks. Dat’s why it’s fun,” he says with a small chuckle. “If we skipped everytin’ we wanted to cause we knew it was gonna come to an end, dat’d be a damn shame if ya ask me.”

no matter how many miles away from home we drive, we can’t outrun our own heartbreak.

“If you live long enough, you’re bound to outlive a lot of what you love the most.”

“Tiger’s eye. It will help with…” She waves her hand up and down my body. “Courage.” “What is that supposed to mean?” I don’t even attempt to hide my offense. She folds her arms over her chest as she narrows her eyes. “Don’t be so sensitive, Penelope. You have stuck energy, and fear is a big part of that.”

Wandering souls, all pulled here for one reason or another, looking for beauty, meaning, and whatever else they can find in a cracked-open section of the earth. Beauty that exists regardless of the pain and emptiness each of us feels in the holes in our hearts that make us human.

‘Ned, canyons aren’t about the absence. They are about what remains. Artifacts of survival and patience and slow weathering. If people looked over that edge and only looked for the missing ground, they wouldn’t see the beauty. It’s God’s glass half-full.’

“You know about the people who come into our lives with their love and change us as much as the Colorado River changed this unforgiving landscape. The ones that cut right through you and carve you into who you are supposed to be. They move slow and steady, eroding what we were away. What they leave behind are the ruggedly beautiful remains that remind us forever of their existence.” “The rivers that run through us,” I say. “The rivers that run through us.”

Every river can’t make the Grand Canyon, but that’s not how it’s supposed to be. Margie was my second wife. She came through and smoothed out the edges from my first wife, who I lost twenty years ago. They carved me differently. The way they loved, and I loved them—it’s all part of it. You’ll see.”

“Never quit on your worst day,” Marin says matter-of-factly. “Dad told me that once. He said your worst day wasn’t the time to make big decisions because you won’t look at things from every angle or how you can improve your situation.”

People act crazy when they are hot and hungry, so let’s cool down and then decide.”

Of every beautiful mile we drove this summer, my favorite are the ones that led to you. You brought me back to life and made me remember who I am. A river that ran through me, changing me forever.