(2002)
I can hear the siren outside my walls, its urgency overwhelming the distracting sounds the TV was designed to provide. If the TV was actually turned on, it would probably welcome the opportunity. I look outside and the evening air is awake, all that stands between the hard ground and the soft snow coming to bury it. And then, another noise: the familiar, forlorn song of a goose, making sure the coast is clear for its companions. In spite of the cold, I step out on my porch to watch the flock fly overhead. Finally, a solitary goose splits the darkening sky into silence and sound, signaling to the family or friends that left it behind. And yet, I know that those calls are actually intended as encouragement for the others; that they always fly in formation, taking turns against the wind.
So what was the story; why was this one seemingly stranded? Was it beseeching the ones it couldn't see, or signaling its furtive rebellion?
I think: you need to stop thinking so much, and shut the door.
YOU ARE READING
Please Talk about Me When I'm Gone
Non-FictionQuestion: How do you get over it? Answer: You don't. You don't want to. It makes you who you are. Sean Murphy lost his mother days after her fifty-ninth birthday, following a five-year battle with cancer. In this eloquent memoir, he explores his f...
