Thursday, September 16, 2010
Today, I will open the window and show you the sky, the sea, the boat, the boater, the piper, and one man's final destination. The story will tell itself in a moment, but you have to pay attention to the seagull, flying with its wings still, soaring the skies, as if he came to the picture to show the presence of the man's spirit, the one whose ashes were about to be thrown in the wind, from the boat, about one and half mile away from the shore. It was a perfect day for the funeral. The day before big storm was coming the boat's way. The piper was the last minute addition. The day before he was happily piping during the cocktail party at the lawn of the local mansion turned into small hotel. It was oysters and champagne party. She, the lady who was about to bury her husband at the sea, took a notice of the piper. His name was Duncan. Her thoughts went back to the time when her late husband's face all lit up in the nursing home, with all his memory lost, but remembered the music when the piper showed up. Duncan was more than willing to come and join the small crew of the boater, the lady, and the minister who will not be able to attend because in the sequence of events, the funeral had to be preformed right away. The storm was coming, and the boater knew that if they do not do it on that day, that late afternoon, they would have to delay it for weeks. So the story goes, telling itself, and you are looking through the window to catch the glimpse of the sea, the boat, the seagull, the piper. "MacCrimmon Will Never Return"
"No more, no more, no more returning;
In peace nor in war is he returning;
Till dawns the great day of doom and burning,
MacCrimmon is home no more returning.
The breeze of the bens is gently blowing;
The brooks in the glens are softly flowing;
Where boughs their darkest shades are throwing,
Birds mourn for thee who ne'er returnest."
And there it was: the sound of the pipes, the sight of the seagull soaring the skies, the boat, not very big one sitting on the bed of sea, awaiting the big storm, the boater, the piper, the lady, and one perfect day for the the ashes of the man to be returned home.
Posted by sunset chaser at 5:59 AM