Afraid that age invents memories, he goes into the vastness of his mind to find the true. Six stone water jars. Or eight?Six. Our talk at the table. Nathaniel and Philip joking, something about under the fig tree.Dusty from the long walk to Galilee. Andrew leaning to me: 'We will see the sky opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man. He has said so.' Yes.Drinking the wine freely all of us, excited. Chosen.At the wedding they were not expecting us. They did not know you had disciples, Lord.Your mother: 'They have no wine.''My hour has not yet come.'That look. As if you did not wish it to begin.We fell silent. A bird flapping high in the awning.'They have no wine.'Because she knew it would be now. Now would be the first sign. There in Cana.But you did not speak; you looked to your mother's eyes.I thought to say we would leave and get wine. I was the fastest; I could run and bring wine from a cousin of Nathaniel not far. But the look in your mother's eyes. As if she pushed you with her eyes: Go, now, begin.The bird flapping high above.
