No one toldGranny when her time was up. She didn’t receive a letter or an email. There was no cheque or bill informing her of her end. There was only her and her ancient brown cardigan and her grand grey robe slung around her shoulders.
Now she was scattered in the earth, a sleeping of ash, burnt to a cinder out of her love for the
land.
I often imagine where she is now, if the remnants have made it to the ocean and are flowing in a moon commanding motion through waves and currents
and ripples.
I neverwonder how much her cardigan sold for or if her house is treated well. Granny
would have said “oh well, now I am dead I have no need for the money or the
worry of my financial status”.
