Almost Time

I saw through one half opened eye. Someone had rolled back the shade, just a fraction. Let in the midday sun, strong for April. Warmed bits of me not covered by the hospital cellular.

We all knew it was almost time. No last supper planned, so long since I’d managed food. But I’d wanted just a last squirt of perfume. A little decadence in the sterility I’d become used to.

As the aroma wrapped its arms around me it took me to places. Life didn’t flash. It danced. And I danced too. The joyful caper of a life well lived.

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