Sunday, June 6, 2010

157. Surmising the horse's head

Being buried is so last century.

Bodies moulder in a grave a while; might be tough on those who had little patience with the irritations of life in their first gig. Cat fluff on the pinstripe. Small children posing a tirade of questions, the answers being self-evident. Irritation because the obligation is to lose the self-obsession and pay attention to someone else’s ego. More acceptable in these days of shrinking resources is a cremation wall or a scattering among the roses. Something there is that doesn’t love a scattering. That wants it gathered.

Being in a nursing home is akin to mouldering. A sleep-over in death’s waiting room, adding piquancy to waiting at death’s door. ‘Being’ is more applicable to a nursing home stay than either ‘residing’ or ‘living’, the latter only being true on the most banal level.

It’s a long time, eternity. Plenty of time to mull on’t.


Joan Elizabeth said...

Yes it is so last century but maybe somewhere down the track people will miss the headstones.

Mary Ann said...

I loved the phrase "a sleep-over in death's waiting room". It creates a great mental image.

altadenahiker said...

This is my favorite so far. Doesn't tell, just describes. I might have taken out the "adding piquancy..." through "banal level," because you've already led us there.