Out of Context 11

           “I’ve got it.  I would like coffee, though, if you don’t mind, and a few of those Toll House cookies.”

            “Yes, sir,” said Ariel.  As he headed for the kitchen, thunder rumbled overhead. 

            “Boy, oh, boy. Brewing up a big one,” repeated the wizard.

            “Sounds like it, sir,” called Ariel.

            The wizard backed up to his recliner and collapsed into it.  From the chair, he had a view of the picture window where he saw tree leaves beginning to dance.  More thunder sounded.

            “In like a lamb and out like a lion, this year,” said the wizard.  “This should prove fun to watch.  Did I tell you lightning struck this tree once?” he asked, but Ariel didn’t hear, and the wizard continued sotto voce.  “Well, it did—long ago.  I was a young man in this house, the new wizard, and I was in love, like you, and everything was in front of me, not behind.  Oh, I say long ago, but it all seems so recent.  It went by so quickly, so quickly.  I’d say I’ve had a good run, but quite frankly, I can’t.  I feel like I just got on my feet, just got up to speed, and I’m looking at the finish line.  I suppose that’s the way of the world, or for the lucky ones, in any event.  Like Willy said, ‘If you get old, you’re lucky, I guess.’  No, no, I have no complaints, no regrets, other than the brevity, the ephemeral nature, the transience of it all, but then, we’re not gods, we’re mortals.  God has the forever of infinity: That’s his cross.  While we…we must give-way, make room.  That truth is inconvenient, but necessary.   So why do the living abhor and ridicule the dead—it’s not their fault, is it?”

            “Were you speaking to me, sir?” asked Ariel, bringing in a tray of coffee and Toll House cookies.

From "A Quachita Fairy Tale" 1981-2013