Tomorrow

We lounged around the restaurant table, perched beside a picture window facing northwest that gave glimpse of tree-carpeted hills tinged gold by the autumn sunset. 

"I like this restaurant," she said. "You can see tomorrow through that window." 

Blonde heads turned pairs of blue rolling eyes toward her, as all girls around the table scoffed, "Grandma!!" 

"I got a look!" she squealed, throwing her head back and shrugging her shoulders into the giggle that could be recognized by anyone as Nita's. 

A year ago, I attended the first Sabbath of Wisconsin campmeeting with the intent of taking musician notes for my pianist duties the following week. I did so without my parents by my side, as they were both at my grandmother's hospital bedside many miles away, which happened to be where my heart and head were, too. 

I didn't end up playing the piano the next weekend. Instead, I caught up with my head and heart and family in Michigan as we began to say goodbye to our giggling Grandma. 

This year, as I drove to Wisconsin campmeeting to play piano (I'm grateful for the music coordinators' grace and persistence), I crossed the Tomorrow River. 

What a smile it was to find another place that I could see tomorrow! 

In some areas, it's known as the Waupaca River. The Native Americans who traveled it knew they wouldn't reach the end until 24 hours later - not until "waupaca", tomorrow. But they knew the destination was coming. 

I know Tomorrow is coming. And I know it's the next thing Grandma will see. 

And we won't have to look through a window to find it. 

:)