There’s a lady who walks the same route I do in the morning. She wears a floppy hat and knee-hi’s and she carries an umbrella to shield herself from the sun. Each morning we pass each other, nod and say only one word, “Morning.”
On this morning, as I walk, thoughts on the only subject now, Woody - Where, really, do dogs go when they die? Where is he right now? –the Woman With the Floppy Hat called out to me from across the street, where there is no sidewalk but lots more shade.
At first it sounded like, “The Towers!” from across the passing traffic so I turned and looked and she pointed to my side of the street, just up ahead of me and said what she said in the beginning:
“Look at the flowers! The flowers!”
I look up ahead of me and a little to the right and there is the answer to my question, Where’s Woody now? :
A field of tiny white Star of Bethlehem flowers, peppering the grass that used to be green, and alone.
There is only one answer to Death:
Life.
****
On this morning, as I walk, thoughts on the only subject now, Woody - Where, really, do dogs go when they die? Where is he right now? –the Woman With the Floppy Hat called out to me from across the street, where there is no sidewalk but lots more shade.
At first it sounded like, “The Towers!” from across the passing traffic so I turned and looked and she pointed to my side of the street, just up ahead of me and said what she said in the beginning:
“Look at the flowers! The flowers!”
I look up ahead of me and a little to the right and there is the answer to my question, Where’s Woody now? :
A field of tiny white Star of Bethlehem flowers, peppering the grass that used to be green, and alone.
There is only one answer to Death:
Life.
****
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