Small Conceits

Musings. Stories. Poems. From where I stand.

Advice from One Who Has Crossed

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Bodhi: “When will Old Auntie cross over?”

Sachi: “When she’s ready. You know her; she has to do everything her own way. But I don’t think it’ll be long now.”

Bodhi: “Why do they call it ‘crossing over?’ What will she cross?”

Sachi: “It depends on who you ask. Some people think it’s a rainbow bridge. For some, it’s a high ridge, beyond where the pine trees grow. For others, it’s just stepping over a kind of doorway into another world.”

Bodhi: “Well *you’ve* done it! Which is it?”

Sachi: “You’ll find out when your time comes. If I tell you, it would spoil the surprise.” <teasing him> “No fair telling!”

Bodhi: <whining a little> “What’s not fair is that Old Auntie is leaving us.”

Sachi: “Oh, Little Brother. You’re so wrong. Death is the only thing that *is* fair. Everybody has to do it — even trees and grass and…stupid chipmunks. No exceptions.”

Bodhi: <crying> “But I’ll miss her! She’s helping Mom raise me up right. I won’t know the right things to do!”

Sachi: “I know you’ll miss her. But it’ll get better after a while. And you’ve learned enough from her that you’ll figure things out.”

Bodhi: “She misses *you,* you know. Will you be waiting for her?” <suddenly panicky> “What if she gets lost when she’s crossing?”

Sachi: “Don’t worry about Coyote. She knows the way. You just focus on taking care of Mom.”

Bodhi: “Mom is going to miss her a LOT. She says Coyote grounds us.”

Sachi: <gently> “Yes, Mom will miss her. So taking care of Mom is a really important job.” <pauses> “And I know you’ll be great at it. Coyote and I chose you because you’re a sweet, smart boy. You are and always have been exactly what she needs.”

——
Me: <relieved> “He’s stopped crying.”

Coyote: “Thank goodness! How am I supposed to get any sleep with all that racket?”

Me: “Oh, now…he’s definitely not keeping you awake. You’ve been snoring all morning.”

Coyote: <grumpy> “Hmph!”

Me: “Oh look! He’s wagging. I love it when you guys wag in your sleep. It’s so sweet.”

Coyote: <grumbles something and turns a clumsy circle on her bed, trying to find a comfortable spot before plopping down with a grunt>

Me: “I’m worried about him, Coyote. He’s going to take it hard when you leave.”

Coyote: <opening one eye, then the other, to gaze fondly at Bodhi; in a soft voice, she says> “He’ll be all right, Mom. He’s getting some very good advice from an old friend.”

Bodhi, my Golden, sleeps

Author: Denise

I'm Denise. I believe that stories lurk in all the tiny moments that make up our everyday lives. They wait, curled into themselves, until someone finds them and jailbreaks them, leading them out into the light. And there's always a story.

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