The Big Sleep

If I slip away in my sleep one day, the lucky way Grandma Lala did, what can I expect? My mind begins to spin like a roulette wheel; lands on angels. If an angel comes to get me I want a female. Quite honestly, I was never too impressed with the warlike Michael, his terrifying sword and bulky shield. Give me a gentle angel any day. Then there’s Gabriel blowing a noisy horn and overly presumptuous, in my estimation, announcing babies to unwed mothers who will be vilified ; sharing the same news with aged women, ready to enjoy the rest due elders. These his noted “glad tidings of great joy.”

Perhaps both of my grandmothers will catch a sky train down; disembark; beckon me to them. I can picture them in their flowered house dresses and sensible shoes patiently waiting. Anna will wear an apron like she always did; Lala’s natural waves will lie perfectly coiffed on her head. The smells of lilac talcum powder and homemade pieorgi dumplings will fill the room. My hands will reach towards them.

Or what if a Glinda, the good witch type, glides down from who know where, carrying ruby slippers that will bring me to my real home. Oh, please let it not be Kansas.

Just maybe, it will start with an annoying buzzing in my ear. I will wave my hand to slap it away. Then spot a crowd of tiny Tinkerbell like creatures lighting the room, whistling, “You can fly, you can fly, you can fly.” A sprinkle of pixie dust and off to Never- Never land or some such place. If I’m flying I don’t care where. I’ve always wanted to fly.

Or a  Whoopi Goldberg type messenger from beyond, one that will come in, all plump and hip, saying, “Hey sugar, your numbers up, get the lead out; let’s boogie on down.” When she sees my face I can imagine her chortle, “Down’s only an expression, honey. Keep your cool.