REFLECTION FROM OLD GREENWOOD COVE

THE END WAS EMINENT. The night before she died, the family matriarch was asked if she felt afraid or scared. We clutched her hand.

“No,” she replied in a whisper, squeezing back. “Just sad.”

“Sad?” we asked.

“Yes, sad.” There was a moment of hesitation, then: “Sad that it all happened so quickly.”

Quizzical looks.  “What happened so quickly, Mom?”

Now, no hesitation: “Life.”

NEARLY FIVE YEARS elapse. Truly only moments. From a bluff above the ocean, I listen to the tide break and watch it wash over a tiny beach strewn with drift.

The words of the mother resonate.

© 2011
Church of the Open Road Press