Death weighs in

Today I write about Death, her shoulders and mouth relaxing into a smile. Her dark eyes are shining and far away, impossibly deep and everywhere.

She sees me, but it’s like she’s looking through me, like my path is brighter than my eyes.

Will I die? the words tumbling out, knowing how small and stupid the question is. She pauses and looks at me, my eyes, and I am still, lost in the grey woods of her surface soul.

She feels amused, her eyes filled with an endless and empty space, trees rustling and full of connection and stories and silence.

Of course, little one. One day you’ll join your ancestors. You are already together, she says, pausing and struggling slightly with the simplicity of me. She speaks softly, as if afraid to spook the toddler.

You are young, but not so young. Death calls us all. You will not, ever, be alone. I am here. They are here. We walk the path together, even when we are alone.

She smiles, looking over at my written translation, and stands, happily, smiling, knees cracking.

On my way now, she says, a burst of color and paths and faces and tasks exploding under the words. Suffocation is not a good death. I wish to be there, for everyone. I will be there.

I thank her, belatedly, my thoughts returning as her presence fades.

Thank you for being with us, old one.

She seems happy with the compliment and recognition, and disappears.

❤