Zaida and Fer knelt between their mother and aunt. The circle of hands expanded. The latent colors of the day succumbed to the dark blues of the night. The four closed their eyes and seamlessly began in prayer...

“We offer these blessings from the desert and Sierra, from the ocean and oasis. As the bounties have blessed us with life and growth, with death and transformation, Great Spirit, we offer these to peace and stillness, to love and abundance. We bless these offerings.”

After the third repetition, they opened their eyes and peered at one another. Steadfast gazes met at a confluence of fear, anticipation, and hope. A familial understanding that what was to come would be significant. The group then peered toward the Sierra, at the distant peak's dark silhouette, the contrast more and more pronounced by the soft glow of the still-hidden moon.

Rosario heard Rogelio take the deepest breath she could remember him mustering for several years. He sighed out his exhale and slumped further down the column.

“Mira! Look!” Fernanda exclaimed excitedly.

The first touches of the radius crested the ridgeline. The golden egg revealed itself slowly, rising above the jagged stone, the cadence of breath seemingly pushing the moon higher out of the mountain. The light of the sun, mirrored by the moon's cratered face, shone down upon the Ordoñez women. The great power of reflection filled their eyes.

The circle closed as the moon completed its ascension over the ridgeline. So close and so large, it felt to them that the moon gathered their breath and harmonized into one. The four inhaled together, and as they exhaled, an orange stream of embers shot from the fire, rising and twisting into the night sky.

Catarina twitched as a vibration shot down her neck.

“Mom, do you feel that?” Zaida asked, her hands breaking away from theirs and pressing onto the earth.

A layer of parched clay lifted into a fog, floating just above the desert surface.

“Yes,” Catarina responded, now more curious.

“I do too!” Fer answered.

“I feel it,” Rosario said as she closed her eyes again. “The earth is trembling.”

The four women turned inward, and Rosario led the group in a traditional ceremonial song. As their voices carried into the air, a thin layer of dust began to form all across the desert floor. A light breeze stirred, carried in from the ocean toward the mountains. The fire crackled. Esteban and Rogelio continued as silent bodies against the stone archways that they had built a decade before.

Rogelio had calculated they needed 477 arches to make it to Don Pepe's orchard. Eleven arches stood, completing just a fraction before the spring ran dry, the precious agua verde evaporated, and their efforts proved fruitless. Rogelio lay in complete stillness, but his mind was not. He thought of all the labor that his brother put into those arches. Every piece of stone was precisely chiseled. Work that transformed Esteban's capable back and knees into inflamed joints, wrecked in pain.

Rogelio felt responsible. The guilt was so pronounced that it seemed to have grabbed Rogelio's body with an inescapable grasp, impossible to move forward in the physical world. He was constantly pulled back to their failed endeavor to bring Agua Verde into the valley of Pescadero. To pay off the debt that he and his brother had incurred.

A gust of wind ripped along the aqueduct, pulling up a vein of dust. The terrain was palpably shaking, the layer of dust hovering above the surface grew deeper, twisting in the current. It was an incoming tide of air and ocean mist drawn from the chaotic surf, headed towards the mountains, collecting the desert along the way. Leaves tumbled off the torote trees, and branches of razor-spined cholla shook loose and entered the flow.

With the moon rising higher in the sky, the messy current glowed as it flowed steadily across the landscape. The only point of calm was the circle of Ordoñez women. They were shielded by a domed veil, an unmovable boulder within the rushing arroyo. Deep in prayer, the women found themselves in perfect stillness. A collective consciousness vibrated in cohesion as the clouded mess churned around them.

“From the ocean and oasis.”

Suddenly, the four women felt another spirit join their circle.

“I'm here,” Emmanuel told them, his energy now sitting with the group.

“EMMANUEL!” Fer yelled in delight. She had not seen her cousin in three years.

“Ema!” Catarina and Zaida greeted, excited to see him after he appeared in their dream a fortnight ago.

“Mi hijo!” Rosario exclaimed. “It's been so long!”

“I love you and we don't have much time,” Emmanuel said.

“Papa, we invite you into our circle.” Rogelio's presence entered. Profound love and calm overcame all within the dome. The family's hearts were beating together.

“You've taken such wonderful care of me, sweetheart. I'm forever grateful. I'll always be here when you need me,” Rogelio said to Rosario. She could see his fiery amber eyes again. She could feel his vitality. The tension dissolved out of her hips. Pain poured down her legs. Her feet violently shook as the years of agony expelled through her toes.

“I love you,” they said at the same time.

“I'm going with Papa too,” Emmanuel said to his mom.

“I know,” she replied.

“I'm going to miss you so much. I love you, Ema.”

“I know,” she replied. “I'm going to miss you so much. I love you, Ema.”

“I love you too, mama.”

“NO!” Zaida cried, pleading with him. He only mentioned his dad in the dream. Tears poured from Zaida's eyes.

“Inhale,” guided Catarina, her presence rock solid.

The four women took in air, deep into their lungs. A collective, coherent breath.

“Let it out.”

Pphhhhhhfffffffff

The story will involve lots of transitions between dreams and real life. Between the inside of meditations and real life. Between landscape lenses and character stories. How to indicate enough so that readers can track where they are. The moon was nowhere in sight. Saturated thunderheads had blown in, yet to drop their water. Utter darkness and screeching wind engulfed the land. Esteban screamed as the wind pinned his body to the column. His cries of pain, terror, and regret were lost within the black chaos. The desert creatures howled and clung to what they could, coarse sand and rock blended into the abrasive side. Lightning struck and pulsed into the earth, strobing the landscape in disorienting flashes. Thunder cracked from above, reverberating and booming again from all directions. The ground heaved and smashed.

A thin cloud snuck through a glow, the moon somewhere above. A single ray of blue-white light pierced through the darkness with divine purity and overwhelming intensity. Instantly, rippling out in concentric circles, the clouds lightened and dissipated. The sky opened, a dilating pupil around the moon's majesty, now directly above. Pristine stillness fell over the land. The wind ceased. All went quiet. The tide, thick with desert clutter, ocean remnants, and earthen particulate, frozen in tranquil suspension.

The smell of honey-rich plumeria brought Zaida back, and her eyes reopened. Her voice continued with her sister, mom, and aunt, all deeply locked in rhythm, united in breath, cadence, and consciousness. Zaida's eyes found the fire in front of her, now just a bouquet of tiny flames, no bigger than the spines of a pitaya. A thin trail of smoke rose gently, spinning the waxy leaf of a tomboy as it pushed past until it slowed, then stopped, held by the grip of the suspension that had fallen on the land.

They were all within. A dome of clarity from which to witness. Her gaze pulled to the left, tracing a crack in the earth. Emanating from the hole Fernanda dug for the mango seed, a split—about the width of a watermelon—had appeared. She traced the line and realized it was directly parallel to the aqueduct on the right. She looked toward the wall and could make out her papa in the archway. The mix of sand, grit, and dust obscured her vision, making it impossible to see more. Her eyes met her uncle's—Rogelio's glowing blue orbs peered into her from the blur.

“Goodbye Z,” he said to her.

A flash caught her eye. One last distant bolt of lightning struck the high saddle bridging the lone peak and the rest of the Cordillera. The few remaining clouds fell onto the side of the mountains. A clear wave emerged, cascading down the wide face of the Sierra. Falling into the valleys, rushing over ridgelines, and coursing down the stone faces towards her, the energy headed toward the ocean.

She watched in awe as the wave crest caught the moonlight and distorted it into an oval. Shadows twisting and enlarging—a magnifying lens pulled over the desert landscape. Behind the oval, the trough of the wave broke the moon's white light into rays of color. The entire line of the wave sparkled like a diamond as it undulated over the landscape. Fast approaching, Zaida saw herself and her family in the barrel eye of the wave cresting before them.

Zaida tightened her grip. They started chanting louder than ever before. Zaida tightened her grip. They started chanting louder than ever before.

"...to love & abundance."

She felt the wave crashing directly on top of them. The fire at the heart of the ceremony exploded into golden orange embers erupting towards the sky. A fine stream of bright blue luminescent particles streamed from Rogelio's eyes, rising, twisting, and spiraling around the flow of embers into the night. With the last blue speck released, his eyes went dark.

“ZAIDA! FERNANDA!” Catarina screamed in shock. Searching for her daughters, she was unsure of exactly where they were. Her eyes moved quickly, scanning the patio and the slope, her head turning like an owl's. She got to her feet and saw that her daughters had been thrown by the whitewash of the Great Spirit's breath further down the hill than she had been.

She threw her legs into motion and soon had her daughters under her arms, kissing their foreheads and huddling them together.

“Rosario!” Catarina cried out. Catching a glimpse of her sister gathering herself to her feet.

“I'm OK. I'm OK,” she replied as she hobbled over to them.

Rosario collapsed to her knees alongside her sister. Their eyes met. Concern and worry dominated their look, but their hearts were warm and full.

“What just happened?” Catarina said, looking back toward their home.

Rosario then peered up the hill.

“EMMANUEL!” she cried, her gaze meeting that of a yellow-eyed owl. The bird, coming from the mountains, was larger than anything they'd ever seen. It enraptured them all in an infinite moment inside its piercing, crisp, yellow eyes. The owl flapped once more. Perfectly silent. Gliding into the twist of embers and blue luminescence. Picking up the colors on its wings as the women tilted their necks straight up, peering in awe. The wings filled their entire view. Then the creature dissolved in an instant, disappearing fully.

They all huddled silently, the four women's chests rising and falling. Gradually, their heavy breaths turned softer and softer. Catarina and Rosario helped Zaida and Fer to their feet. They started walking back up the hill. The smell of plumeria grew more and more pronounced as they approached the small clearing where Fernanda left the shovel just hours before. They carefully stepped over a low cactus and their feet sank deep into moist earth.

Fernanda looked down as mud pushed between her toes and water ran over her foot. Their favorite smell radiated strongly.

“Look!” she said, pointing to the ground. No higher than her knee, a small mango sapling with its fresh new leaves reached for the moonlight.

“It sprouted already!”

A form moved in one of the archways, drawing Catarina's gaze away from the tiny tree. Esteban's round belly silhouette scrambled away from the aqueduct wall. Stones tumbled from the wall and crashed into the earth. It was the fastest Catarina had seen him move in a decade.

“Esteban! Are you OK?” Catarina yelled, rushing up the hill with her daughters' hands in hers.

“I'm OK,” Esteban replied softly, patting the dust from his pants and admiring the pile of rocks that would have crushed him. He turned to find Catarina.

“¡Por Dios!” Esteban said. His eyes expanded across another aqueduct wall. He turned and checked the wall from which he just ran. Then twisted back again. It was an exact mirror of the eleven-arched wall he and Rogelio had built. Emerged from the earth and covered in red clay, the wall sat parallel to the original. It was also missing two columns.

He stood where the fire had been, and laughed in amazement between the two walls.

“Papa!” Fernanda and Zaida jumped into Esteban's arms, followed by Catarina. Moving deliberately and slowly, Rosario searched the four piles of stone that lay where columns once stood. She collected her skirt and kneeled beside one. The cuff of Rogelio's shirt poked out from the rubble.

Rosario pulled a few stones away from the fabric, laying them onto the earth without a sound. She pulled Rogelio's cold arm toward her and wrapped his hand in hers.

“Look after Emmanuel, will you?” she asked. She traced the lines on the taut, white skin of his palm. Devastated but proud, she mustered,

“Thank you for bringing the spring back, Ro.”