The widow wakes just before dawn to find the ceremony candle burned out finally. It took a long time but then again it was
intended to be burned once a year for the rest of their lives, so it was a dense
bugger. This day also being solstice ,
when the sun stands still in the sky mid-way moving neither north
nor south for a minute and glaring down its energy full blast - and the end of Gemini - and a full
strawberry moon – well, that kind of convergence of energy was rare
indeed. So, it seemed about time she put
a stopper on it, so to speak.
At their parting, for the sake of the kids, she’d walked
them through the bullshit that is the kind of things you say to set a good example. “Sometimes people have to leave you, and you
wish them well on their journey.” Blablabla.
Yes yes, he’d cried, agreeing – wish me (it’s all about me) well! [eyeroll] Since then, ever trying to be truthful, and knowing it would be good for her own
sake, she had tried to mean it. To
feel that way, to be putting that out there. It was not easy. She knew, for instance, that the other woman
sported a tattoo that read “Snitches Get Stitches” and that was illustrated with
a Harry Potter quidditch ball, quite literally advertising her commitment to keeping
secrets as a principle of life along with her 5th grade reading
level. Rising above ironies that big was
like trying not to notice a really fat ass in front of her in the cosmic
checkout line. She really had to work at
it.
So it was a pickle, as her mother would say. How to dispose his half of the cord now in a
way that would be apposite.
And then it did come to her.
 |
| May you get what you want. s.m.i.b. |
