I was asked HOW WOULD YOU SPEND YOUR LAST DAY ON EARTH and to put it in a essay exactly 1000 words.
My last day would begin one minute after midnight. I would set the alarm, making sure I woke up at one minute after midnight. This would be my personal time. i would go outside looking up at the moon and stars remembering years past, the wonder I felt as a child when I would wake finding the moon shining in my bedroom window, feeling safe because it took away the dark. The grass cool beneath my feet I would reminise how my folks laughed when I told them I could feel grees talk, the grass cry when it was cut. I would give thanks to the goddess who allowed me to feel thoughts of nature.
Next would be a long shower, glorying that I no longer had to worry about the bill, since no one else was up. I could take my time! Coffee would be next, flavored with hazelnut. The taste sweet, thick on my tongue, reminding me of grandmothers cookies. I would get dressed slowly, as thoughts of learning how to button my shirt come back to me.
Leaving my bedroom I would set the table. Each platter would have a setting of rose petals around the plates as when they were small children having a birthday. I would fix German crepes, dusted with sugar, served with marmalade. Getting the kids up, I would smile and watch as they chattered, in awe of the procreation in front of me. Forgotten would be the arguments, short tempers, negatives. Jokes would be served with milk, each of us sharing a story as I drink in every inch of their wonderful selves. Clearing the dishes I would ask that they bring out their pictures. We would spend an hour or two sharing thoughts, experiences about what they represented. Piling into the living room, we would cuddle together watching movies we picked out the day before.By now it would be noon, I would take the kids out to the forest, pointing out special sites. We would smell the forest, listen to the birds, adding our laughter to the wind. Having brought a picnic basket we would feast on the special meal I had prepared. Strawberries would be first, fresh, glistening, tart, making our mouths water. Huge chunks of sour dough bread with butter spread would find its way into our hungry mouths. The river providing the gift of clear cold water for our dry throats. Cleaning up our mess we get in the car for a trip to visit the grand folks.
Arriving there I would remind my father who has alzheimer, of who I was, settling next to him as I did when I was a little girl. I would listen to my family chatter, talking about anything and everything. Listening to the stories of my childhood, my children would look at me with wonder. They now know me better, carrying the stories with them. I look at my mother and just the contact we make tells me that she loves me and I love her, no other words need to be said. My father will be reminded gently who I am, that I love him very much. this would be one of the hardest parts of the day.
Sadly, quietly we return to the car deciding to do something uplifting. Baskin Robbins, here e come, singing oldies on the radio, anticipating huge cones dripping with sticky, cold, exciting flavors. Getting our treats, we head for the house, the house that I have spent 15 years raising my children. Crowding in the living room again, pulling out paper and pencils, I look at them individually telling them to write down what it is I want them to have, why I want them to have it. This takes quite awhile resulting in tears and upset. We finish with a hug and offers of strength. I ask for time alone. I spend this time reflecting on things unfinished, a conversation needing explaination, a relationship with someone that could use a smile. I call people on my list, righting wrongs, sending wishes of good faith, asking that they keep in touch with my children. Looking around I find last minute things I want to pass on to my children, quietly presenting them.
Its dinner time, though we are not too hungry. Its the companionship that draws us to the kitchen, each fixing a shared dish. The table is bursting with all kinds of food, the laughter is back. I get a gleam in my eye and for the first time in my life I begin a food fight. We explode into chaos of flying corn, dripping pies, soon exhausing not only our supply but our bellys are hurting from laughter.
Its getting late now, so we begin cleaning ujp, planning to end the evening together, cuddling, each os us sending quiet messages of love and respect. We know my time is almost up and turn off the TV, spending the last hours of time talking about anything that might have been unsaid. I get up from the couch, going to each child, i hug them and thank them for being the wonderful gift they are. I dont apologize for what I could not do, but I do ask they remember what they might have needed and I couldnt or did not provide, that they give that to their own. I ask them to remember me to the river, and wind, to listen to the earth, because they will hear me if they listen.
I go to into my bedroom preparing for bed. I lay down, once again marveling at the wonderful feeling of my body relaxing, stretching out, finding warmth of familiar blankets. I close my eyes knowing I will not view the earth throught these eyes again.
Letting my thoughts wander throught the portals of my past until sleep overtakes me, comforted in the knowledge that tomorrow I will awaken to a whole new existance.
But for tonight, I remember today.
