A woman and her teenage granddaughter walked in. They were both in their Sunday best, ready to walk into the temple the minute they arrived. I looked at Becca. She looked down at her sweatpants and t-shirt. We were under-dressed.
The double-decker bus pulled up across the street. The women in their skirts and the men in their ties queued up to climb aboard. The first class, leather recliners on the bottom were reserved for the types with weak knees. We headed to the not-so-shabby neon-green seats on top. We pulled out at 12:30 am. I was awake long enough to take this picture, but don't remember much after that until we arrived at the temple around 4:30 am.
The lockers in the bathroom filled with people's belongings quickly. We had an hour and a half before the temple opened. The kitchen was buzzing with weary, mate-drinking travelers. I covered my head with my coat and tried to sleep another 45 on the couch.
I woke up and cooked the oatmeal I brought in the microwave. The line for hot water was long-full of people with their mate thermos in one hand. I brushed my teeth and went to the distribution center to buy the self-reliance books I needed. There were just enough left for both me and Becca to buy one each.
Around 7:00 am I put on the jumper I bought at Saver's and little mascara and headed inside the temple. It was packed with Mormons, each one whispering "Hermano" or "Hermana" when passed in the hallway. I wasn't surprised to recognize how the temple felt when I stepped inside. Each one (regardless of where I am in the world) feels the same: thick air and heavy, happy silence. It reminded me of being home, sitting around the dinner table and laughing with my family or cuddling on the couch with a willing niece or nephew.
I fell asleep in nearly every chair I sat in. I couldn't handle functioning on only four hours of sleep.
The bus was scheduled to leave at 1:00 pm and I could choose to fill my time how I wanted. I sat in the Celestial room a while. It was gold and blue and white. The carpet had designs stitched into it. Couples of all ages sat close to each other, each with their eyes closed and their lips moving with silent words.
I changed out of the white temple attire back into my dress. There were red flowers outside the doors in the flowerbeds. A woman sitting on the edge of the cement planter took a couple of pictures for me. I was hungry, but walked around the side to take a selfie.
I walked back into the waiting area. It was packed with people-families recently made eternal, teenagers with damp hair, and adults with a new light in their eyes. I ate my left over melanesa and papas fritas. Again the line to the hot water was at least ten people long. My grapes weren't as fresh as I like them, but they were good enough.
I wanted to change into my leggings, but the dressing room was closed for cleaning. When I asked the guy at the front desk if I could change in the closet, he told me, "No," then muttered something about how we weren't savages. I ran to the waiting room just inside the front door of the temple to use the restroom.
As the bus pulled out of the temple I ate an alfajor. It was just starting to rain.
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