Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Gentleman Caller



Funny how important things can be forgotten. Just today I remembered we made a pact, he and I -- a pact that he cannot take me. I must give myself to him or he cannot have me.
We have sat together many times, he and me -- we -- balancing the soul between us like the ballast we were. He tugged the soul toward him to see if it was ready to go; I pulled it back to center, refusing to let it feel rushed or pressed for time. These decisions must not be made in haste.

He sat with me countless times, nodding with respect, rocking in his chair (he brings one with him everywhere he goes -- he hates to stand on ceremony but is willing to wait forever) with his bony hand outstretched in invitation lest I feel rejected.
I think he feels lonely at times. Many fear him, cower in fear at his face. When he gets a spare moment, he always stops to pay his respects (he deeply respects me), and we talk.
He ritually invites me to leave with him just before he fades into the shadow in the corner. So far, I've declined but thanked him for his kindness.
And today, I remembered the bargain we struck, quid pro quo. He may not compel me go with him. In return, I entertain Death whenever he stops by.
One could have worse company. ~~ Ginger Hamilton