Friday, July 09, 2004

I am at my grandmothers funeral. It is in a dimly lit high school gymnasium, which is almost filled to capacity. All of her friends and family have come. I stand, walk to her coffin, and begin to cry. Suddenly I am standing on the patch of green lawn between the front door and the driveway at the ranch. My grandmother is holding me in a tight hug. She consoles me. She imparts some mysterious wisdom and as my tears cease, she walks along the wall of the back room and around the side of the house. I follow her, admiring as I approached the rose bushes in full bloom that belonged first to my great grandfather, then to my grandmother. I turn the corner on the side of the house, and my grandmother is gone.