Flying

My sister called to tell me that Ms. Nona died today.

Except Ms. Nona was the one elderly woman at the hospice facility who didn’t seem to be dying, at least not anytime soon.  She wandered around in wide circles and tugged on your sleeve for attention. She spoke gibberish and laughed gleefully. She appeared to be just a happy person trapped in an old and uncooperative body.  My sister says Ms. Nona simply collapsed – mid jabber, mid circle – on the dirty shag carpet — like her spirit finally escaped and was now free somewhere. And so I was glad and – just in case her spirit could hear me – I whispered out loud: fly away, Ms. Nona, fly far far away.

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