Because of idahoswede‘s post about a lovely image of death, I thought I’d share another version by Rita Mae Brown that I’ve always been partial to:
I always thought that Death was just my size, height and weight. An invisible rope is tied around my waist and the other end is tied around Death’s waist. The younger you are, the longer the rope. If Death gives a yank, I can land flat on my face with injury, death or heartbreak. But if I tug on the rope with authority, I’ll live. I always thought that as I grew very old, the distance would diminish until Death and I would blend and just walk away together.
I really like that one better than the one another friend gave me, which was life as a conveyor belt with each person’s life riding along to the drop off into the recycle bin.
It’s too nice out to think about death. Birds are flying in long strings and wedges across the skies. Wheeling clouds of them rise and fall over the little woods behind our house and the crows are having one of their cawroborees. Cottonball clouds are drifting low and slowly.
We were over at a friend’s house last night with several other couples and had a very carby dinner of pizza which left me feeling bloated. We came home early-ish with Karin already asleep in the car, and I fell into bed at 10:30 like a rock. Slept for TWELVE hours. What a slug. I suspect it was the pizza that gave me very vivid and semi-psychotic dreams. 🙂
No plans today, other than to clean up the kids department. Martin has gone to Ebba’s house to play. Karin went up to Jonatan’s on her bike but he apparently wasn’t home because she came right back. She wears her hockey helmet to bicycle with. As she was leaving, Anders saw her and came in to ask me who put her helmet on. “Me,” I replied, “Why?” He gave me one of those pitying looks and pointing to his head, said, “Red—back, White—front.”
*Subject line also swiped from idahoswede