dust to dust

every wednesday we meet. mum and i. we meet, and we sing, along with thirty other women. it’s coffee break.

we break, each week, from mop buckets and frying pans. we break to unite, to find purpose as ladies in this village called blyth.

we talked about death. about heith ledger winning awards after he’d died. about the impossibility of taking physical objects to heaven.

we talked about today being ash wednesday. dust to dust, the bible says. we are dust. mum and i, dust. our smiles and our laughter, particles, filling the air for but a moment. soon we’ll be gone…

reunited in heaven. mum, free of brain cancer. me, free of worry.

it’s humbling, thinking of myself as dust.

i take time to spread my ashes in this home. on this earth. hope the wind doesn’t blow too strong, too soon, or my ashes will disappear. floating, like white moths, up to heaven.

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