Equal Measure

Equal Measure

by Eileen

I wish I could fill this space with a story about how I was lifted up by a halo of white light and born into the waiting arms of my ancestors, or how death is a solitary birch at the top of a snowy hill with a flock of starlings for leaves and a knot that changes shape between the faces of those I loved the most when I was still alive.

Something pretty.

The truth is that I was and then I simply wasn't.

Yours was an act of cruelty, selfishness and love. The equal measure makes it forgivable.