Daily Scribbles :: The end

Click here to read about why I scribble every day. Even if you have different reasons, I hope you start scribbling too. :)

Inspiration:

BART station. San Francisco. January 3, 2012.

I.

Kate looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror for the last time. She was wearing her favorite cardigan--olive green, with mother-of-pearl buttons--and tan slacks. Her gray hair was pulled into a tight bun, just as it had been most of her life. Out of habit, she reached for the thin silver chain around her neck, rubbing the tiny silver disc between her fingers. She pinched her cheeks for to add some color, sprayed perfume on her neck and wrists, and carefully applied lipstick.

Satisfied, she collected her purse and the dark blue envelope from her bed. She touched things as she walked through the house: the edge of the dining room table, where she had cooked and shared countless meals; her favorite reading chair; her husband's keys, still hanging from the key hook, even after all these years. Kate looked at her home, smiled, and walked out the door. She didn't bother to lock it, and she didn't look back.

She walked slowly down the sidewalk, greeting familiar faces and strangers alike with a warm smile and a friendly "hello". On her way to the train station, she stopped at her favorite coffee shop for a few last indulgences. Kate quietly sipped her coffee and ate a generous slice of cake at a table near one of the large windows. Outside, people rushed to their play dates and appointments, back to work and school and their lives. She carefully cleared her table, brushed off the crumbs, and thanked the young staff for serving her, even though she knew they couldn't hear her with the ear buds in their ears.

Kate walked into the train station and sat on a bench as she searched her purse for the envelope. She extracted her ticket and re-read the date and time of her departure. It was today's date, and she had seven minutes before she had to leave.

She watched commuters walk briskly past her, carrying their bags and books and crying children. Then, she walked across the platform and got on her train. There were only a few others on it: a young girl, maybe seven, with dark hair and round eyes; an older gentleman with a full mustache; and a red-haired woman in a navy dress. They all smiled and nodded at her as she sat down. And then the train sped off quickly and quietly beneath the city. She thought about her children and grandchildren. As she thought about the stories they were living, her heart swelled with love and pride.

Too soon, the train slowed to a stop, and the other passengers exited the train. She watched them cross the platform and insert their tickets into a slot on the turnstile before pushing through. Then they turned the corner and were out of sight. Kate crossed the platform, ticket in hand, and fed her ticket into the slot before pushing through the turnstile. She pushed through, rounded the corner and saw a flight of stairs. She hesitated until she heard Him.

"You're almost here, Kate. Everyone is excited to see you, including Henry. Especially Henry."

At the mention of her Henry's name, Kate smiled. She even giggled. Her Henry was there, waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

"It might take me awhile. My knees aren't too good anymore."

"That's okay," Jesus said. Suddenly, He was by her side at the foot of the stairs. He hugged her, and then offered His arm. She leaned on Him, and together, step by step, they began their ascent into the light.

II.

If you could plan your last day, what would it look like?