In Her Wake

Daylight savings time hit. And I hit the bed. The lights went out. I slept for 10.5 plus 1 additional hour that night. Eleven and a half hours of sleep? Jeez. Guess I needed it.

It’s a bit darker now. Farmers remain annoyed. Crops keep croppin at sunrise despite the clocks’ LED reflection of our thoughts. That colon blinks blinks blinks neon green. Do we think it’s brighter in the morning? The clock is brighter sooner; the incessant blinking shows itself earlier in the evening.

After three family weddings we had an unexpected family funeral. A sad one. One that welcomes me to ‘fall back’ into bed. Blankets me with dark. Two consecutive weekends of white and light followed by a weekend of black and dark. My eyes are blink blink blinking the mourning.

It happened on Halloween. The next day was all Saints Day. Maybe she was.

We rise mourning. We attend a wake at night.

What makes sense?

Sometimes the time change reminds me of the coziness of family and holidays. It seems to bring about this Chicago feel. Good smells. Good tastes. Good people. Good laughs. Layering clothing, gathering around a kitchen table and having a crack with the family. The kitchen table is where it’s at. 

It’s the epicenter of the family. A lot of time, it’s where the matriarch holds her domain. My Aunt Mary Kay certainly hosted a good Christmas. I don’t know if she ever stepped out of the kitchen. She brought the good smells the good tastes the good people the good laughs. The prayers. The light.

She was our saint. 

She will see us early to bed, early to rise. She will remind us to be healthy, wealthy and wise. We will think of her. She will turn the lights back on again. Maybe come spring. After the mourning.

 

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