Writing Prompt No. 27
Look carefully. I’m in approximately one billion tiny pieces of life.
Or death. Depending on how you look at it. I died an elderly woman eleven years after my husband. My ashes mix with the ashes of my two cats, one beloved dog, one budgie and my life-long partner. We decided long ago to all be scattered together under the apple tree in the front garden. Our life, our bodies now mix with the earth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Where does that come from? I am not religious.
Every day I can look up through the branches and witness the passing weather, the passing of time. Clouds rushing passed on a windy day, the sun warming the ground in the Spring. My favourite is the rain falling after a long hot summer rinsing my fragments through the soil.
My daughter visits sometimes. She didn’t want the house. She sold it to a friend. She gets to be here though. And I get to see her. She looks older now. I can see her hair is greying. She keeps it long still falling along her shoulders. She’s happy. Content. Sometimes though I see her tears fall.
Please do share your own stories in the comments below.