who got what and how soon it will be delivered. I recall when an uncle
died in 1984. Betty said there was no will; she has, I have heard, gone to get her due reward. She sent my daughter a blue velvet dress from Hawaii with a chuckle she didn't think I heard. It was the same jealous giggle I had heard in the family room at the funeral held in August of that year. Her snicker came shortly after the recording of "In the Garden." Some call it "He Walks With Me." She had what she thought was the last laugh, especially when her husband delivered the wheelbarrow full of rusty tools from his trunk to my driveway with a strange expression on his face. Among the rusty tools, nuts and bolts was a wooden box full of old clay pots, some cracked, some with soil so hard it had almost petrified, like a smile on a dead persons face we can't see once the lid of the casket closes for the final time. Or so some might think...for the final time. I never touched the rusty tools, not once, just buried them between the western wall and the eastern gate to wait and see what might spring up through the soil someday. The flower pots, I sensed were not meant to be my inheritance, but I accepted them with glee and shook Rick's hand. She would have to buy another dozen or two to start another season of her special perrywinkles and lilies of the valley that won her ribbons. She never called to ask for their return. I use them to get my ivy and special marigolds a good start each spring. I guess Betty never knew Uncle Jim had told me where the will was long before he died. It was, if anyone might want to know, behind the calendar from Lionberger's Auto Parts. Rest in Peace, Betty, dear. What did you tell Uncle Jim about the will, or did he even have to ask?
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