Imagine all the things you leave half-done in your house if you're planning on coming right back. I cleaned out a big pot of something Meg was in the middle of eating when I got to her apartment on Friday afternoon. Something with squash and millet. She hadn't even unpacked her bag from when she was visiting me in New York.
On Saturday night, all of us standing around the bonfire with our hands out, like at communion, Meg's sister Laura walked around the circle and gave each of us some of Meg's ashes. I brushed my finger around in them for a moment, feeling the smoothness and the tiny bits of bone. I wanted to taste them, but I didn't. Then we all leaned in close to the fire, with glowing orange faces, and tossed her in.
My friend Alessandra drove her van up to Northampton and so we were able to fit Meg's writing desk into the back of it, which I'm now using as my dining room table. We also brought back a rocking chair she had painted hot pink, which Becky took, and a box of other small items that I took for myself (her pale green Remington ten forty typewriter, a book or two, a screen printing stencil that reads 'Leevil' she made for me, more little things,) and for some other people, things I'm sending soon in the mail: scarves, small boxes, trinkets.
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