I generally have no problem driving five, or even ten over the speed limit when I am at the control. However, I found myself barely making the speed limit in the area where the accident took place. My imagination insisted an unruly curve grabbed the vehicle and caused the driver to over correct. There had to be large boulders with steely eyes that watched the traffic and carefully chose the 'lucky' victim to smash. Without doubt there would be kamikaze eagles in the area.
Instead, the freeway was very open, with two lanes going West and two lanes going East, divided by a grass median. The day was bright, just as it was the day of the accident and when I approached the mile marker, there were no unannounced corners, no animated boulders, and no evil looking eagles. Nothing that was as ominous as the Amygdala would have me believe. In fact the roadway was somewhat boring. I saw the path of the car, and felt the adrenaline rise.... then drove right through it.
The Nemesis joined us as we followed the winding road up the mountain to the small cemetery. It was a cold day with wind that left my cheeks sore. The road was sandwiched between the river and the hillside. Curves were posted as 25 mph and even 15 mph. The OsmOne noticed the cement barrier that lined the path toward our destination was missing sections. Then it occurred to us--the section missing was the section where a vehicle would actually MAKE the curve. So, if you missed the curve, there was no wall to stop you. (apparently, if you want to go over the cliff, the opening was provided!) It seemed bizarre to both of us! I love to see the beauty of nature, but I generally prefer to gaze at it from behind a safety net of some sort.
The state where the burial took place had different graveside etiquette than what I was familiar with. I have lived long enough to have attended more than just one funeral and have attended funerals in a couple of states. In each state, the grave is covered by the fake-grass looking carpet and beautiful brass rails are set in place to display the casket while the graveside service is completed. But that is not how this grave was prepared. What they had was a gaping hole. With the remains of that hole piled next to it. For the first time, in all my years--I was exposed to the reality of a silent body being put into the cold, dark, and so very permanent earth. (it is much more comfortable to leave a loved one atop the brass rails, above the ground, and have the cemetery sexton arrange lowering of the casket and closing of the grave! And is it too much to ask that until all attendees have left the premises, the back hoe is left out of sight?)
Soooo, I am rambling and I need to get to the point of this post. The crowd lingered after the pall bearers lowered a beautiful, hand-made casket into the earth. That is not unusual, however at one point, I observed a small child approximately three years old approach the grave. The Nemesis instantly gave me the vision of the grave from this child's perspective.
An older gentleman came up behind the child and knelt next to him, wrapping the child with his strong arms. I could not see the child's lips move, but he was apparently communicating with this man, whom I assumed was his grandfather. The man spoke softly to the child, but I was able to hear what he was saying; the Amygdala having greatly enhanced my hearing.
The child pointed to the casket and immediately pushed back against the man, who seems oblivious to the possibility that the child might be frightened of the large hole that has swallowed the mother of his friend. The old man told the child that his friend's mommy "was down there, and that is where her body will stay, until her spirit can come back to her body." (Her body is In the hole?!) The response I saw from the child was an instantaneous lean backward, away from the grave, but the old man saw something else and stated, "It is sorta like cutting your hair..."
The child pointed to the casket and immediately pushed back against the man, who seems oblivious to the possibility that the child might be frightened of the large hole that has swallowed the mother of his friend. The old man told the child that his friend's mommy "was down there, and that is where her body will stay, until her spirit can come back to her body." (Her body is In the hole?!) The response I saw from the child was an instantaneous lean backward, away from the grave, but the old man saw something else and stated, "It is sorta like cutting your hair..."
The Nemesis exploded in front of me and I was suddenly a child sitting high in a barber's chair, my feet don't even reach the end of the seat. A large black cape has been thrown over me and I am unable to breathe. The old man has grown explosive eyeballs and is waving landscape shears at me, preparing to 'cut' my hair. He has black framed glasses with thick coke-bottle lenses, is wearing a white lab coat, is balding on top, and is laughing with a big open mouth full of yellowed, crooked teeth. I slapped the animal down, but have not forgotten the image. I bit my tongue and turned away. Look! Pinecones! Let's explore this old cemetary! How was that for Distraction?????
No comments:
Post a Comment