December Instructions from Nero: What to Do While Rome Burns

Sean lives on the street with his bottle, but over the years
a very special lady took him in when the whole world forsook. She yielded last
week, and he lost his sun, moon, and stars. He donned white cotton marching
gloves with his suit jacket and boating hat, and went to
the church to lay seashells on the altar beside her ashes.
Sarah’s husband suddenly left her just as her children were about
to launch. No real explanation. The future was set and then it dissolved, but
she is crafting a new future, going places she’d never thought she’d be beside
friends she never expected she’d have. The husband was a doctor. The new boyfriend
keeps a gun beside his bed. Just in case, he says. He has good strong hugs, and
he cares. She’s more open now. It’s the new Sarah.
Mark is so lonely, so lonely. He sits in a hospital bed, two
months on, with nary a visitor and only a rare call. So he walks. Every ten
minutes, he rises to his walker and he goes. Mind over matter, he said. The
days are long, and he fills them with shuffling footsteps.
Geoff has always kept his young kids away from his closet
full of expensive instruments. He recently landed his dream job. Then, a headache. A brain tumor. He put his instruments on consignment in Nashville. "I’m
gonna die," he says. "So I bought a dobro and I’m going to kick ass on that thing
before I go."
Maria left Cape Breton when she was 19. In Boston, she married a man not because she loved him but because
she wanted her baby to know its father. It was the right thing to do. She tells
him every day she’s gonna leave him. He loves Trump. She hates him. He reaches
for her body and she asks him, “Are you CRAZY?” She picks up her fiddle and plays it like she’s
on fire. Maybe she is.
Maybe we all are. We may as well fiddle accordingly.
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