My aunt handed me my cousin in the form of fine gray dust and shards of barely there white bone bits. “He would have wanted you to scatter his ashes in the place you both loved so much,” she tried to explain through choked tears. Would he? Really? I had to wonder. He was all about being my guardian; making sure I didn’t do something stupid like date the wrong guy. (He failed on several occasions.) That was as polite as he could get. My real cousin was all about being a trouble maker, a hell raiser, a wiseass agitator. Outspoken because he could be, he got a special thrill out of ruffling feathers and bunching panties. Of me he was protective in that junkyard dog kind of way. Growly and rude, I couldn’t help but love him for it. But. But! But, to be holding a handful his remains five years after his passing! This was a sucker punch for which I was not prepared. All that was left of him seemed so…fragile and so frail. All that was left was something to be treated with the utmost care. So unlike the flesh and bone boy that I knew. Suddenly, I had the overwhelming urge to lick my hand. I wanted to swallow the gray dust and white bones; to eat it with a devilish smile. I have no doubt that’s what he would have done with me.
LunaSeaSaid 