Parcels, the narrow
stretch of land that you can imagine all the deer have left, that’s what Mrs.
Scattergood got thanks to this plot. She
sighed. How in the world did she come to
be a landowner? She wondered about the notion
of returning to the land, the final return. The Friday nights of chicken soup
finally imbedded in her soul through the agency of the dill. But where is
Barry? Some cultures envision the
departed whole and entire in another world. She liked to think Barry was there
with those he loved and will be also with those coming after him. But there are
days when that feeds a certain kind of loneliness; as if she were an alien
stranded on planet earth by the death of her friends and family.
~
Some cultures believe that our bodies
return to the land. But that must be cultures where they lived on the land.
Some people believe that all are one.
She felt that at times too. Felt
it in knowing with what necessity she regularly needed to inhale dill. But what
about the particulars? Does your body belong
to the land where you live? How much
maneuvering can a body’s spirit do? Is
it the earthworms churning the land and everything through their flesh running
that negotiate the soulful turnstile? Is
there a strict accounting of all of this?
She just didn’t know.
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