The Funeral

The old man was superbly dressed. Fit for his age and with eyes as piercingly blue as the day he'd been born, he wore a well cut black suit, with a black shirt and tie to match. While in his youth his hair was just as dark as his garments, now it was a tired faded gray, as was his close cropped beard. He stood at the back of the church with an unreadable face and thanked people for coming as they left the funeral service. When his wife's friends and family had all gone he thanked the preacher for kind words and for the comfort he had provided the old man's wife throughout her last days in the hospital. With that done he took the urn that contained his wife's ashes and left.

The church faded in his mirrors and soon enough the town did the same. He drove for an hour before passing another small town, barely more than a gas station, and kept driving. Finally, 40 minutes after passing the last sign of civilization he saw it, the old barn that marked the start of Palmer, Kansas. The years hadn't been kind to the barn, though in all fairness it didn't look like they'd been kind to anything in Palmer...or Kansas. He drove past the barn and stopped at the local general store.

When he'd gathered his items and went to pay, a cheerful young girl told him he looked nice, and asked what the occasion was. "A picnic with my wife." He replied, with the same unreadable face he'd had at the church.

He loaded the supplies into his car and turned back to the old barn. Parking nearby it took him 2 trips to get the blanket, food, and wine from the car, and a third trip to retrieve the precious urn. Setting it on the blanket and taking a seat next to it, he poured the wine and started making sandwiches.

"Well, Jane, here we are." He said. "Back where it all started. Now I know I'm supposed to sit here and say that I remember it like it was yesterday, and that that memory will always be fresh and new, but that's just not true anymore. The truth is, I've taken that memory out to look at it so much these last few months, that it's starting to fade at the edges, and I'm not sure what was real, and what I've changed through the years."

"I know that it was summer, and that we were young, but I can't remember what day of the week it was. I can't remember why I hadn't gone to the park with my friends. I can't remember why I'd decided to come exploring this way at all. But I do remember what I found when I got here. I remember you, and your pretty yellow dress. Most of all, I remember how kind you were. I remember how surprised we both were when I jumped in through the open window, right into the middle of your tea party. Clumsy oaf that I was I'd knocked Rufus and spilled Penelope's tea, and still you smiled up at me rather than pout."

"I still remember your first words to me...'you know if you wanted to join the party you should have come through the front door like a proper gentleman.' I stood there in shock, not knowing what I'd just hopped into, and you calmly picked Rufus up and righted Penelope's cup. It was the start of a beautiful relationship."

The man took a drink of wine and wiped a tear from his eye. "You were everything..." he said, now letting the tears remain on his cheeks. "I wish you were here, I wish..." Just then the door to the barn creaked open and in walked a young girl pulling a wagon with several stuffed animals and what looked to be supplies for a picnic of her own. The old man stood and the girl stopped in her tracks and stared at him.

"Hello," she said, "I was going to set up a picnic for me and my friends, do you want to join?"

The old man smiled at her, then at the urn. "Thank you," he said to both "but I think I should be going. It's a beautiful day, and I'm afraid I'm not very good company today. I'd hate to impose." He took up the urn and what was left of the wine and made his way back to his car. As he buckled into his seat and started the car he saw a young boy walking through the field, circling the barn curiously.

The old man got out of his car and approached the boy, who had moved a nearby milk crate under a window. He waived to the child just as he was climbing onto the crate and taking hold of the window. "Excuse me," he said, "but the barn door is unlocked." He smiled and pointed to the front of the barn. As he was about to turn and walk away he stopped himself. "By the way," he said to the boy, "do you know what day of the week today is?"

The boy stepped off the crate and was making his way towards the door, "It's Tuesday." He said.

The old man smiled, "That's right, it is Tuesday."