Word Press Every Day Inspiration Prompt Day 18: Anecdotes
I’m waiting for the light to change when the bright white late-model Cadillac hearse sweeps by, heading where, I do not know, but I can tell you where it came from: 17 Chestnut Avenue.
Your box is larger than I expected. But small enough to fit on the bookshelf, nestled between two of your favorite books: C is for Corpse and D is for Deadbeat.
We’re headed west in a white Jeep, bound for Fort Huachuca, Arizona. The plan is to bury you in the cemetery, next to mom’s grave. But there’s a hitch. The office that arranges the burials says that it will take a week or more to get the paperwork through, and we don’t have a week. On our way out the door, a man stops us. Mother sold him his house. He dug her grave. He tells us to meet him in the morning. He will help us.
Some time in 1987
God knows how you managed the trip. Officially, you have lost your mind: a case of ‘diminished capacity” as the result of hitting your head when the van you were driving overturned several years before. But still you drove yourself from Sierra Vista to Niceville, Florida. Alone. The 1,627.8 mile mystery tour.
We arrive at the burial site to find a neatly shaped hole – like the center of a doughnut but square rather than round – in the center of mother’s grave. I lower you as gently as I can into the hole. I look up to see three deer gathered at the edge of the wood. This will do.