It was a clear summer morning and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Families were pouring out of their cars in droves, excited to finally send off their 18-year-old adult children to The Great Unknown. It is the most sacred tradition this community has upheld for centuries.

There’s an altar at the edge of a precipice, high up on their mountain. The 18-year-old will sit in between their parents, dead or alive, and all three of them will silently reflect on the life of the child. Once the altar has a sense of the life that was provided, a glass bowl will magically appear. This bowl is to be displayed near the front door of every home they inhabit. It stands as a visual reminder of the childhood the host has been provided with.

There was a beautiful girl, anxiously awaiting her turn. Her mom had tears of happiness and pride filling her eyes. She couldn’t believe her daughter was already old enough to venture into The Great Unknown. Raising her daughter at home full time was the biggest blessing of her life. She held hands with her daughter in line, exchanging excited grins. The dad stood stoically next to them, reminiscing on all of the lessons he and his family tried to teach the daughter. He hoped she would be presented with a beautiful bowl, but knew that whatever one she got, his daughter would proudly display.

As they sat quietly at the altar, a beautiful bowl appeared rather quickly. It was perfect! It was devoid of any cracks or imperfections. There were no chips or stains. The daughter smiled, thanked the altar, and accepted her bowl with gratitude. She was pleased with how clear it was, knowing it would match any home decor design she could ever choose.

Next up was a tall, skinny young man with acne littering his face. His mother looked very old and frail. He had to push her in her wheelchair to the altar. She looked exhausted by the whole ordeal. Her son never showed any signs of bitterness or resentment. As he settled in beside her in front of the altar, a man appeared next to them. The young man had goosebumps all over his skin. He didn’t even look over to see the spirit of his father who died when he was young. They all sat in total silence, heads bowed.

It seemed like the altar had a hard time distinguishing his life. It presented him with half of a bowl, then four large glass pieces and a shimmery gold liquid to bind it together. The dad disappeared into thin air, and the mother lovingly explained how to use to gold liquid to create a strong bowl. It took him a while to finish, but everyone cheered him on. As he walked away pushing the wheelchair, his mom proudly clung to the bowl smiling ear-to-ear. People kept complimenting the unique bowl.

As they said their goodbyes, she kissed him in between the eyes like she used to when he was a baby. She said, “Son, I am sorry for all the ways in which I ever let you down. You deserved a better father, home, and clothes. I wish I could have given you the perfect life…a life in which your heart never broke.”

The tall son got down on one knee so he was face to face with his mother. He took his hands and enveloped her small face in them, kissing her sweetly right between the eyes, like he did when he was a toddler. “Don’t ever apologize. You did the best you could with what you had, with little help from dad or the community. My life has been complex, but I always knew you had my back, loved me, and provided a safe place to sleep. I look at these gold imperfections with nothing but pride. I am a warrior. I want to remember every challenge you brought me through. We always made it to the other side, together. That’s all that matters.”

The day was coming to an end with only one young woman left on the mountain. No one knew she was there all day. She hid in the trees to avoid the sympathetic stares and empty, forced invitations to join strangers. She knew going last would eliminate any uncomfortable situations and didn’t mind waiting. She hadn’t see her dead parents in years and was quite nervous for the reunion. She was thankful for the time in the trees to gain her composure.

Her father brutally killed her mother when she was young. Then he tortured the young daughter every day of her life. He blamed the young child for the mother’s death because his conscience couldn’t handle the truth of what he did. After a few years, even the daughter believed it.

She slowly approached the altar reverently. She sat down and bowed her head, waiting to feel her parents souls appear beside her. She was shocked by how little she felt. She opened her eyes, but they weren’t there.

The altar started violently shaking and she backed away. She heard the beautiful call of a Mourning Dove, so she looked up only to see it being hunted by a hawk! She grabbed a rock to throw at the predator, but as the rock connected with the hawk, everything disappeared. The altar was gone. The birds were gone. She was left alone standing at the precipice…with no offering bowl.

Suddenly she started getting pelted with glass shards from the sky. She ran to the trees for coverage! When glass stopped falling from the sky, the young woman slowly approached the pile. Alligator tears swarmed her eyes, but she never let them fall. She quietly opened her backpack that was stuffed with packing paper, which she intended to use to wrap her bowl with. She covered her hands with the paper as best as she could and scooped the glass shards into her backpack.

By the time she was done collecting all the pieces she could, her hands were sliced and bleeding everywhere. She tried wiping them on her shirt, but felt razor blades. She knew small glass pieces were inevitably being lodged into her skin. She zipped up her backpack, gathered some moss from the forest floor, and wrapped them in leaves.

As she ventured into The Great Unknown, she wondered how long it would take her to build a bowl out of the pieces. She thought to herself, does blood permanently stain glass?