Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Papa's Key of Life: A Story

Day 24


He walked up the center aisle past the rows of gunmetal gray folding chairs. His steps were slow and deliberate like the pendulum of a clock. Eyes downcast, watching as first one shoe would appear then the other. There was a small scuff mark on the left toe, it would have to be buffed out. Looking up he saw the bronze metal casket with golden handles. The right half was closed and draped in a blanket of red roses. The left half was open showing the ruffled, lily white satin liner. His mind drifted back to just a few weeks ago.

Papa, why do people die?”

The old man hesitated a moment and then continued to shuffle forward down the hall until he and the boy were standing in front of the dusty grandfather clock. He opened the glass door on the front, reached down and picked up the key. He reached up, opened the clock face and inserted the key. The boy could here the sharp click, click, click as Papa wound the clock spring. The key was placed back in the body of the clock and with a gentle nudge the pendulum started to swing side to side in a slow hypnotic rhythm. Papa turned to the boy with a thoughtful expression.

People are very much like this old grandfather clock. When we are born an angel comes down from heaven with a key. The key of life.”

They walked back to the study and Papa sat down in his favorite chair next to the fireplace. The boy climbed up into his lap and snuggled into the crook of his arm.

The angel inserts the key right here”, he said pointing to the boys belly button. “You see? Then the angel gives it a turn and winds up the life spring inside us. When the spring of life winds down our souls are set free, like a moth leaves it's cocoon and then flies away. How long we live depends on how many turns of the key we receive.”

The boys mother took his hand in hers bringing back to the present. She wiped away a tear. The boy peered over the side of the casket. It looked wrong somehow. This was not his Papa. This looked more like a department store mannequin, plastic and cold. He remembered what his Papa had told him. This was just a cocoon, the soul had already departed.

His mother smiled and said, “Your Papa loved roses”


The boy watched the delicate wings flex next to a red petal and said, “He sure does.”

Until tomorrow,

Ken


No comments:

Post a Comment