Dream

The clutter on Alice’s desk irritates her, like a hair caught in the back of her t-shirt. And, like the hair, she’ll wait until it bugs her enough to do something about it. Not tonight. Tonight is for relaxing. Knitting with free yarn, listening to a CD of poetry from the library, in the black leather recliner she purchased second hand for thirty-five bucks.

“Lucy! Lucy! Come!” The old beagle mix reluctantly lifts her heavy lids, head, and body, and comes obediently, tale wagging, for a pat and rub on her soft coat. “No sleeping for you. You’ll be up way too early otherwise.”

Lucy makes her way to an even softer spot, on the Mongolian rug under the grand piano, swirls a circle or two, ready to settle in again…

“Lucy! No sleeping.” Alice knows her relaxing is over, for now. She clambers, not unlike her dog might have, out of her chair.

“Come on, go outside for a bit and wake up.” Watching Lucy meander the muddy back yard, Alice empties dishes from her fifty dollar dishwasher with the battered racks. The new homemade dishwasher soap worked very well, she notes, but I’ll need to add some vinegar next time to take care of these water spots.

Lucy recovered from the back yard, knitting and book going, Alice’s thoughts wander into tomorrow. Bring Jason and Nick to work, drive two hours to get Max at his father’s, stop somewhere along the way, maybe a beach to get Lucy some exercise, home, supper, hopefully the boys will have it made
when we get back, then taxi to our respective activities…eesh, I’m tired already. And with the price of gas.

Alice shudders. She hits rewind, then stop, saying, “Better get to bed now.”

There was just something about an empty house that made Alice feel happy. Some women would be scared, Alice realizes, but she loves it, the rare times it happens. Maybe it was just that no demands would be made of her. Or maybe it was because she didn’t have to worry about being decent, or putting the toilet seat down. Maybe it was just the freedom, so rare after twenty-six years of raising hard to raise sons.

Jason and Nick would be back soon. That would be comforting, too, knowing they were home, safe, even though they were early twenties. She admits her need to know that. Nothing could change that now.

She wishes she knew where Taylor was. She wishes she didn’t think about that right now. She wishes she could be free of that as well. She wishes that didn’t make her feel guilty.

Half a dozen pillows and a heavy homemade quilt welcome her, engulf her, guilt and all. An hour later, she wakes and smiles to hear her two middle sons quietly, respectfully enter, lock the front door, let Lucy out and in, and go to bed, Lucy with Nick. Nick went out, too, tonight. Good.

“In the morning I will see them. They’re home now. Don’t worry.”

Dreams of knitted lace, singing in church, smiles.

She doesn’t remember the dream of Talyor jumping.

Accident

Was that a racoon? Saw it only for a split second. Smash! Nose to the sky. The road askew. Veer right to go straight. Steer left, car goes right. Pull harder left, car goes right. Road. Grass. Road. Grass. Road. Grass. A field. My body tipping to my right. “Oh God, don’t leave me.” Blackness. Grass. Sky. I duck to avoid the ceiling. Water. Tall grass. Blackness. Water. The car ceiling in my head again. Blackness. Water. Grass.

Breathe. It’s finally over.

Tallgrass in the headlights, growing from the sky. Water seeping in on the ceiling. What if I’m in a pond. “I have to get out.”

Can’t undo my seatbelt. Panic. Kick the horn with my foot. “Help me! Get me out of here! Somebody help!” Wrench at seatbelt. Not coming off. I realize I’m upsidedown. My weight is holding me in. Push my feet against the dashboard to provide some slack. Seatbelt off. I lay in frozen sewage water and ice.

I roll down my window which is in shattered pieces far behind me. So cold, s-s-so so cold. Only a few inches of water. Must be in a ditch. Try to open my door. No room, door won’t budge. Try the passenger side window. Opens a bit then gets stuck. S-s-so c-c-c-cold. Panic. “Help me out of here! Please, God, send someone!”

A woman screaming, “She’s alive! Get her out of there!”

“Oh, thank you God. Thank you.”

Mens’ voices muffled, “All..us…together…pry the door…Unlock the door!”

I pull the lock down, still not sure which way is up. They heave, heave, heave. I push with my back, my feet against steering column, sitting on the ceiling. Push, push, push. The door gives way. I squeeze through. Men pull me by my arms up the steep ditch. I roll over to my hands and knees and stand up and walk.

I stand up.

And walk away.

“I’m s-s-s-o c-c-c-c-c-old-d-d-d.” Led away to a waiting car , upright and warm.

“I’m s-s-sorry, I’m going to r-r-ruin your seat-t-t. I’m soaked and I st-st-stink.”

The woman, finished screaming, says breathlessly, “That’s okay. You’re alive. Doesn’t matter. It’s just a seat.”

“Thank you. Thank for stopp-p-ping and helping. I didn’t know h-how…”

Her son in the back seat. I cry for him. “I’m so sorry you had-d-d to see that, young man. S-so sorry.”

“Thank you, Jesus. “ A mystery to my rescuers, to thank a man-god for corkscrewing in an icy ditch

Reality sets in with the pain. I’m moving in a couple weeks.

A little sample of my warped sense of humour…

My Will, For What it’s Worth
(No, this is not a real will. Please.)

I was never your typical person, so this is not going to be your typical will. I wanted this thing to be in my own words without all that fancy funky language lawyers think are so important, but apparently that is not entirely possible at the writing of this will, so there are a few attachments with the official stuff included. We’ve already discussed most of this several times, so none of this, well, most of this, should not come as a shock to anyone. Right?

Ok, I’m dead. I’m sure you all miss me very much (you’re supposed to laugh here), but it’s time to get on with your own lives which, sadly, now includes dismantling mine.

First things first. Oh, I always despised cliché sayings like that and here I am writing it in my will.

Let’s try that again.

The first thing to do is to get rid of my body. Now, you know I never liked anything fancy, but I have a surprise for you. For the past six years, I’ve been working on my own coffin. Yes, I built it, lined it, and decorated it. Yes, decorated. You know how I’ve always loved to doodle. Well, when you see my coffin, you’ll know how much I loved to doodle. I didn’t bother varnishing it much, just enough to add some glimmer glamour in order to highlight all those fantastic bright colours. Yeah, I did put some sparklies in the varnish. It’s beautiful! I hope you like it. No, I mean that. I’ve enjoyed creating it; now it’s your turn. In any case, it’ll only be there for a couple days and then you’ll never have to see it again.

The coffin is in my basement. Maybe you’ve found it already. It’s kind of hard to hide a psychadelic coffin, but I managed to keep it from you all for the past six years, so maybe I’d better explain where it is. Go down the steps and into the rec room and lift the sofa cushions off the sofa. Yup, you got it. You guys have been sitting on my coffin for years now, and didn’t even know it.

You’ll need some help getting it up the stairs, obviously. When I first started building it, I didn’t take into account that it would have to get up that narrow stairwell, so I had to take it apart and make some adjustments. It should go up very easily now. I did call the cemetary to find out if there were any specifications needed for coffins. They somehow thought I was a regular coffin manufacturer because they told me more than I needed to know in their own after-death-business way. There’s big business in dead people. You guys should look into it.

As far as funerals go, I don’t really give a hoot what you do. I won’t be there. I’m enjoying the presence of Almighty God, so nothing less than that is going to do for me now. However, if you’d like some guidelines, here’s what I had in mind.

1. If you’re going to have a funeral, display my casket without flowers all over it. I didn’t go through all that work to have flowers covering it, at least not until dirt covers it first.
2. That said, it would be lovely to have lots of flowers all around. They always make people feel better. But please, please stay away from the typical funeral floral arrangement. I’d rather have a clay pot of daffodils than a “spray”, whatever that’s supposed to mean, of hydrangea and giant mums. Ick.
3. Sing some of my favourite songs. If you don’t know what those might be, you probably shouldn’t be planning my funeral. Feel free to include some of the slow, schmultzy ones I like, but don’t let the pieces drag, whatever you do. Please, if you’d like to, Mike, play the piano for this part, or, better yet, the organ. Or perhaps Alexis would like to do some or all of it. Otherwise, I’m sure Sally will do her usual excellent job.
4. Let Alexis sing something if she wants to. She can do whatever she likes. That will definitely make people feel better. That girl’s voice has to be the closest thing to what I’m hearing right now, namely angels. I’m just sorry I couldn’t see her grow up. She’s going places, that one.
5. Say something nice about me. If you don’t know anything nice about me, you can still plan my funeral and say whatever you like. Whatever you do, be honest. Don’t be telling people I was gentle soul with a heart of gold. Tell them the truth. Of course, I’m all in favour of skipping this part altogether since anyone who would be coming to my funeral should know enough about me that you shouldn’t have to tell them anything at all, but since this is all for your sake’s anyway, you guys do whatever you think is best.
6. Sing a few more songs. Make sure you include some peppy ones. I’m sure you won’t like that part too much, Mike ,but you’ll live, Mike. Pun intended. Doesn’t matter anyway. You guys do what you like.
7. John, you pray for everyone and read a bit of scripture. You guys know how I loved reading the Bible, but I never could come up with a favourite passage. I wish I had something concrete to suggest, but you will likely have no problem coming up with something fabulous, John.
8. Mike, this might be a good time to play a classical piano piece, if you want to. Don’t have to, it’s up to you. Everyone always loves to hear you play, and that’s what I want my funeral to be about, making people smile and feel better. In fact, make it a couple of pieces, Mike.
9. Sing another one of two songs.
10. Tell some jokes. No, I’m serious. Tell some jokes. You know how I love corny jokes. Get that funny book with all the church bulletin mistakes. That book was so funny! Or tell a new one I’ve never heard before. Just make people laugh. I know, tell them a story about me that will make them laugh. Like the time I ripped off a corner of the facial tissue with my eyelid when I sneezed, or the time I went to the concert hall with back seam of my skirt ripped right up to my underwear and didn’t even know it. Oh, that was sooooo funny. You guys will come up with a few good ones, I’m sure. In fact, invite anyone to come and tell a funny story if they want.
11. Sing one more last song. Don’t make it a dirge. Keep it uplifting.
12. Lastly, put the DVD my lawyer is going to give on for everyone to watch. I hope you like it!

You’re making me sad. It’s not me. I’m fine. I’m with Jesus. You guys, well, I hope you don’t miss me too much. In heaven, there’s no time, only eternity. For you, well, you have to wait. But it won’t be long, I promise, and you’ll all be with me, and you won’t be complaining about how I play the piano! Be brave, my dear ones! Be of good cheer! Sorry to sound so corny, but it’s all I can think of right now. You guys are awesome, and you’ll be fine. Do me proud, and live for Jesus every day.

Okay, enough of that kind of stuff. On with business.

Well, what do you think? Would that make an okay funeral? Like I said, and I insist, you guys do whatever you want, how you want, when you want. Okay?

Now, on to more important things.

About my belongings, I know you guys won’t fight over anything and do what’s best with what little I own, and I hope you feel free to do what you think is best, but I wanted to offer a suggestion or two. Please, do not feel obliged because I suggested them. For crying out loud (pun intended, as usual), I’m dead. Don’t give your loyalties to a dead person.

Here is what I was thinking, for what it’s worth.

1. Please consider giving my piano to Alexis. Mike, you have your own, of course, and the rest of you have yours for your kids, but we all know Alexis is also very talented yet can’t afford her own grand. If she’ll take it, I think she should be considered to receive it.
2. Mike, I’d like you to do what you want with the little songs I liked to write. I have several no one has heard, and I think it would be great if you could do somethng with them, if possible. Also, please make copies for all three of my grandchildren as well as Alexis of whatever they think they would like. Feel free to make copies of sell or give away any of my music, Mike, if you decide to take any of it all.
3. All of my jewelry and silk scarves, my silk sari from India, my silk robe from China (Do you think I liked silk?), all that girl stuff, I’d like you wives to take what you like, but if you don’t mind, please give to Alexis one or two things. She’s the closest thing to a daughter I have, and I know she will always treasure what you give her.
4. My writing, the latest manuscript, whatever it is at the time, any of my completed works, whether published or not, I though you could have them, Nick. I have no idea what to suggest to do with them. If you think someone might enjoy reading some of it, go ahead and share it. If you can make a few bucks on it, that would be fine, too. But all my writing reference books and the like, perhaps you could share with your daughter, Jane. She has shown much more talent in writing than I ever did, and I hope you all continue to encourage her with it.
5. As for all my furnishings, dishes, books, all my possessions, well, nothing is worth much, is it. I only ever bought a new couch once, and I always regretted it. So since everything I own is from second-hand shops, except my coffin and coffin-sofa, of course, there’s not much of value there. But, if you want to do the, “My Mom died, so we’re selling off her junk,” garage sale thing, you might make a few bucks, who knows. However, I’m sure there must be someone out there that could use what’s useful of my things, and I’d be thrilled if you would pass along to them whatever they’d like. Otherwise, maybe you could pass some things along to Stella since she’s getting married soon and will need something for their new place.
6. Now the house. I never thought I’d still have a home of my own until my death. I feel like it’s been rather wasteful, even though it is a very small house and I share it with my dear student boarders. But I was wondering if James wanted it. You know, as the oldest grandchild, I somehow feel like it’s the right thing to do, especially since he’s just started his new family. He can do what he wishes with it, sell it, rent it, live in it, whatever. If you guys think this is silly, then, as I’ve repeated already too often, you go ahead and do what you feel is best for everyone.
7. My few investments I have divided up into investments for each of the grandchildren and for Alexis. On this I will be firm. The investments stay as I have arranged them. There is an addendum as to my specific wishes. I want the grandchildren to feel free to do what they wish with their perspective investment. If that means going on a trip, buying a better piano, or giving everything away, that will be up to them. Yes, even little Eva. It’s not a lot of money, and I have a feeling you all will learn a lot from this experience.

I guess that’s about it. Pretty boring, I know, especially for a loud, obnoxious old bat like I, but I don’t want you guys sitting around any longer. Do what you have to do to get these things done, call whom you have to call, sign what you have to sign, and get on with living! But while you’re at it, keep your minds on Jesus. You won’t be doing all this for me or for yourselves, not even for the grandchildren, but for the Lord.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men,
Colossians 3:23 NIV

See you soon, suckers! Mwahahahaha!

Love you guys!
Mama Annie