Elevation

He rose slowly from the chair, the coverlet trailing below him like the hem of a long skirt, feeling absurdly like Mary Poppins, minus the umbrella.

There would be no grave for this man, and no more gravity, either. He had been given a special dispensation.

Gravity is the anchor that pulls us down into our graves.

It was when you said you felt elevated. She is that way when she runs. It’s why she runs.

what you deserve has nothing to do with where you finish

e remembered running up and down the bandstand steps. He remembered dancing across the kitchen floor as Stevie Wonder sang “Superstition.” This was the same. Not a wind, not even a high, exactly, but an elevation. A sense that you had gone beyond yourself and could go farther still.

I am so glad to be alive on this day, he thought.

Somewhere high above them, Scott Carey continued to gain elevation, rising above the earth’s mortal grip with his face turned toward the stars.

Everyone should have this, he thought, and perhaps, at the end, everyone does. Perhaps in their time of dying, everyone rises.

He could see the Christmas tree that Deirdre had lit over a month ago, and which would remain in the town square until the first of February.