Tennessee pines. Tall oaks. Hickory wood burning. They sat by the fire on a cool autumn evening. Both of them counted their blessings. It had been a while since the two of them had prayed to their lord. He had just gotten through cancer. And she had helped him along; in the bathroom with him when he was throwing up, putting blankets on him, holding him when he needed to be held. They had survived.

And now they sat in these woods. Quiet. Every once in a while, an owl would hoot, some deer would run, the trickling of water from a nearby stream; peaceful.

They said their prayers out loud so that the other could hear. Man and wife said goodnight. He kissed her on the forehead. Ginger hair pulled back in a bun. Dreams were on their way.

He had this vision. A day of peace worldwide. No armies fought. Missiles would not fire. Handshakes on battlefields. The old man slept with a smile on his wrinkled face.

She dreamt of a black horse on a beach. Running. And she was riding it bareback. A voice kept calling her name. His voice.

And he was dressed in white. Standing on a rock. Feet in sandles. She came to him. They held each other and said goodbye. She told him, I’ll see you in the next life. He nodded his head.

The next morning, the fire had died out. Ash laid in the dirt. She unzipped her sleeping bag and kissed him on the cheek. He did not wake up.