The Six Feet Under Contest

Here I sit, at the kitchen table. No distractions. No noise. All alone. The tempest of the last few days over.

Here I sit, alone with my thoughts, my recollections, my regret, my memories.

So many calls. So many people, dropping by, calling. Friends we haven't heard from in ages. Many we haven't seen in so many years. All concerned. How are you doing? Anything I can do, you just call me! People bringing over food.

I suppose the interruptions did us good. I suppose being busy dealing with all this has kept our minds off the inevitable.

The ceremony was beautiful, she would have loved it. All her friends, so many people. So many I really didn't know. All that loved her, here to say goodbye.

Now in silence, sitting alone, I see her. Everywhere I go I see her, every room, every window. I glance out and I see her coming up the walk. I see her, a child, skipping along. I see her ---- Anxious to tell me — what just happened, what she did, what she saw, whom she met. Coming in to my room, I see her thrilled at her opportunity, accomplishment, sad at her disappointment, failure, I see her. I see her a baby in my arms, as a child. I see her as a gawky teen, a woman, a wife, a mother. I see her forever. Through out her passages.

I am in a tunnel, a stadium and pictures appear on the walls and ceiling. The silence is deafening. There are no doors or windows, no light, just surfaces ... full of memories, thousands of images s. Pictures of our time together, a chain of memories in my mind, of a lifetime go fleetingly thru my mind.

She had so much potential, such good opportunity. I whispered, take care, be careful, come home, call me. She did.

I pace the house. She is in every room. I hear her squealing with delight, sobbing in despair. She is so healthy, so beautiful, so full of life. Off to the next challenge, the next conquest, the next level of challenge to her fears.

I walk out in to the garden and I see her, helping plant a few seeds, pull a few weeds. In the spring we delight in our crop. We reap our meager rewards.

I sit now, at the kitchen table, entranced, thoughtless, aimless, with my memories, without her, all alone, in silence.