Note 72 : Not all those who die are dead

'you know when the elephant stamped on the ant, the ant didn't die. It was too small to be stamped.

The earth quaked, a strand of thick hair like the root of a tree was snapped, monkeys rubbed the sleep of their eyes - turned a-side and went back to sleep again, but the ant didn't die. Ruffled wisps of dust, flying and hi-;fying each other mid-air settled down. The ant didn't care, it continued its climb uphill, up the ant-hill

It was too small to die. Like the too big to fail, the ant was too little to die. In the larger scheme of things, it didn't matter, no matter what the poets say' wrote Lily as she walked through the forest.

Technology could help you do that, make a book of everything you thought and wanted to scribble down.

The sun baked down, leaving no trace of moisture. There were cracks in some parts, almost as if the thirsty planet opened it dry lips in hope of gulping something down.

'How would you feel if you didn't matter Agnes?' Lily asked her little sister

'I'd be particularly happy if I got a break from the living and live where I don't matter ' she was in that type of mood this particular day. Another day and she'd say she'd make everyone else insignificant.

'if I don't matter, nothing else will' with a dooming, threatening sound of a giant monster of an Agnes, stomping, Stomp, Stomp.. haha..

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I loomed around, I was there and I wasn't. Neither here nor there. Between heaven and hell, I still don't know which is which. At a later time, 500 years after, I would realize they are only labels. Notions created out of made up languages..

Anywho,

I didn't have a life even after I died, so I stalked my kids. The two of them had decided to take a walking trek. It was almost the rainy season. The skies on most days would prepare for rain, however sun came along the next day and would rain on skies clouded parade.
(I wouldn't give up on puns even after I was dead)

They spotted an owl in the first half hour, a peacock in the next

They walked, aimless, among all the lofty goals the world was setting itself, my little girls, walked without a purpose, just together. I was proud.

Did you know ghosts can cry,  also, the one benefit of being a ghost is that your clothes don't get stuck in shrubs How amazing!!

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When you're dead, that is on the verge of dying, literature suggests you get a sense of meaning. Mine was, a touch senile. I died believing time and memory were the same thing. That if we had no memory, time would limp and extinguish.

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Agnes, one summer vacation, watching looney toons and crackling with excitement asked me, during a commercial break ofcourse :) , what would I name my third daughter if i had one.

'What would we name her?' was her exact question

It was Agnes asking, so it had to be a rapid-fire question. I had to answer immediately.

I don't remember what I answered. I only remember how it made me feel. In that moment, my being cloned itself and out of nowhere, I had 3 daughters. 'There's nothing like too much of a good thing' the clone said before jumping away to another universe

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Lily, one sultry rainy afternoon asked 'If i had to rewrite a book, which one would i pick’  I asked her back – she replied back too. And I gave my answer. I again don`t remember the specifics, in the grand scheme of things, the answers don`t matter, only the questions do. No one remembers the answers.

But right that day, another clone, out of body thing, left my body, walked in the pitter-patter of rains – and a few years after wrote me a letter with a list of books he had re-written, list of headlines he had changed – built another galaxy with more butterflies than ours.

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Everything that left me never came back, but it left for good and created something more enchanting, more beautiful, left behind more stunning universes. And here I was, the un-cloned, content in staring at the moon and ghosting two beautiful little girls.

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