We lay on the turf in the cold and the dark. We lay bundled up with hats and scarves and gloves, we lay close but not touching. It was a meteor shower and we lay there together, in the dark, in the cold.
Elisabeth, I said.
Yes, she said.
The sky was falling.
I have been thinking about this a lot lately, I said, about the idea of being dead. Like I'm not worried that I'll die tomorrow, but I just think about that one day I won't be alive, you know. And like what that will be like, because it will be forever. Infinity years of my being dead, and that'll be it. Life will go on but I just. I won't. I won't go on. I'll be gone. I have been up late and very anxious.
She took a deep breath and then let it out and her breath was tiny icicles in the air.
We saw that dead raccoon on the way over here, she said.
I turned my head to look at her.
I'm just saying it could be worse, she said, still staring at the sky, and then she took my glove in her glove and I looked back up as well. I don't think what she offered was much in the way of comfort, but it was something to think about, at least.
Monday, December 17, 2012
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5 comments:
it is a conundrum; try not to take it personally.
Physical death is final but every deed lives on and affects generation after generation in a good or bad way - even the deeds of a raccoon. I like the honesty in your writing.
Do you know God? He knows you.
http://latenightthought.wordpress.com/2013/03/04/what-is-death-to-you/
Thought you might want to read this,
she understands you! lol
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