Ashes to Ashes

It all went wrong when they went to spread their mother’s ashes.

Though it could be argued that it all went wrong the day they found out the cancer had spread and the treatment wasn’t going to work.

Or maybe it all went wrong when the severe weather over the middle of the country prevented the middle daughter and older brother from getting home in time to say goodbye.

But it definitely went wrong when they went to spread the ashes.

They had planned it all out. Sunrise on the mountain. They would each take the ashes and share a memory, or a poem, or a song, whatever they felt at that moment. Then they would take the beautiful golden scoop they bought just for that day and dip it in the bag and spread some of her ashes before passing the bag and the scoop to the next person. And by the time they were done the sun would be up and shining on the spot where their mother would spend eternity. It was going to be lovely. Just a perfect ceremony.

But somehow the beautiful golden scoop was forgotten on the counter in their mother’s house. So they had to improvise with an empty fast food coffee cup that Jason had in his rental car. It was a little larger than the golden scoop, and not nearly as beautiful, but they had all agreed that their mother’s love of a good cup of coffee first thing in the morning meant this was still an appropriate choice.

That wasn’t where it all went wrong.

When Jason opened the bag containing their mother’s ashes and took a deep breath to get ready to speak some, well, some of their mother floated up in the breeze and caused him to sneeze. And as he was trying not to sneeze the thing that happens when you try not to sneeze happened. He sneezed harder, jerking his arms and forcing the larger than the beautiful golden scoop coffee cup into the bag which ripped the side of the bag, which in turn shifted the weight of the ashes tearing the bag completely along the seam and dumping them all out on to the ground with a soft floop like sound and a cloud of ash that then made Jason sneeze again and again. And not only sneeze but jerk his entire body so he then kicked the little pile of ashes at his feet spreading them out and mixing them with the dirt.

It had all gone wrong.

Everyone was horrified.

For a moment.

Then Grace began to giggle. She caught Allie’s eye and she also started to laugh. The telepathy that forms from shared memory spread and Jason began to laugh as well. Their spouses weren’t sure if this was just grief overcoming them or if it was another sign that they had married crazy people.

Grace wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes and said, “The turkey…”

Then Allie gasped out, “The cake!”

And all together the three siblings said, “The pantry shelves!”

They laughed so hard they had to hold each other up.

Finally Allie got enough control of herself to say, “Rest in peace, Mom, we miss you so much.”

That evening the siblings and their spouses shared stories.

The Thanksgiving dinner when their mother had tripped over the dog and dropped the turkey as she pulled it out of the oven. Also known as the day they decided the sides really were the best part of the meal. Or the day their dog, Rufus “Worth It” Jones, got his middle name.

The Welcome Home cake their mother tried to bake for their father when he had been traveling for business. She had put the flour on the edge of the counter not realizing she had caught her sleeve under the bag. As she pulled her arm back the flour had fallen. Hitting the edge of the open drawer below and exploding all over the kitchen. Their father had come home early to surprise her and found her standing in a cloud of flour dust. They were both surprised.

And the time she had pulled the entire set of pantry shelves down trying to reach a pitcher on the top shelf. The resulting mess in the pantry took hours to clean up and they never really got all of it. Years later they would find traces of “the great pantry demolition of ‘85.”

Their mother had not been a beautiful golden scoop, sunrise beaming on the mountain top, perfect ceremony type of woman. She had been a bit of a mess to be honest. So the moment it all went wrong on the mountain top was actually the moment they knew it would be alright.

First Quarter Submission Rejection...

My submission for the first quarter was a 53 Word Story with the prompt The High Road. I wrote three stories and then submitted the one I liked the best.  Each has the same title, The High Road, so when you see it you are on to the next.

Fifty three words isn't a lot to work with. I haven't seen the winning story just yet...but I really can't be too mad about not winning this one. I wrote all three of these in about 20 minutes. Not my best stuff, but amusing.

The High Road

There are two ways out of the valley. She could go over the mountain or around it.  The mountain road was shorter, time was money they said. The valley road took at least two hours longer, but better safe than sorry they said. To each road there is a season she always said.

 The High Road

A beatific smile from above looks like a sanctimonious smirk when viewed from below. A frown of concentration looks like a scowl of anger. Working toward the middle ground made the earth shift under her feet and left her questioning everything she thought she knew. Right or wrong, everything depends on the angles.

The High Road

“Have you ever considered not taking the bait?”

“Why would I?”

“To be the better person.”

“Better? Who decided that was better?”

“Kindness is always better.”

“How is weakness better than strength?”

“How is kindness weak?”

“Kindness opens you up to pain.”

“Then kindness must be strength.”

He hadn’t even felt the hook.