You told us about your near death experience.
You said you floated away from your body, like flying, light, away.
“Did you even see your body below you?” I asked wide eyed.
No. No. You said looking up at the ceiling. It was like flying. . .
I got there, to this place. It’s very, very green….and these children. Yes children everywhere…all in white, shining… you know, just playing and twirling, spinning over there, in the green.
…Yes there are the hooded people…Over there….They look sort of lost…They walk alone. They keep their distance. But they are there, the hooded people.
I hated the hooded people. I thought you were talking about death but then I decided they were probably in the shadow lands. You said you came to a fork in the road, an almost heaven this way hell that way T junction.
You stared ahead, remembering.
…and these three…that came to get me. “This is it,” they said “don’t be afraid. It’s all going to be ok. Come!” they said happily… ay, they were very cheeky, very friendly, very convincing you said; they could have been demons. I was going with them. For sure. It was so green.
…my grandmother stepped out. Eh, she was kali, man. She held a stick and told me to go back. She was very – stern…Kali, kali sana.
It was so – green.
Then you went quiet.
She says to you, “Are you tearing up?”
Yes, you said, holding your hands over your mouth with your eyes closed.
You very nearly died.
Everyone went quiet.
Afterwards, we laughed remembering how W so badly wanted to see the ghost in my office. I loved your stories. I loved your humour and impertinence at the sexist notion that women with rasta hair make bad wives.
really. i couldn't work with more beautiful people.
Kitchen Board: Speckled Sky Sunday: November 2012
toodely toot, y'all. bisous. X.X.X. fresh spring rainy ones, all about ya x j