The Dead, The Stars, The Dog
The Dead, The Stars, The Dog
A Christmas of Life
December 21, 2020
The Year of the Dead
On the shortest day of the year we learned this has been the deadliest year.News reports say the United States will bury more than 3.2 million people in 2020, at least 400,000 more than last year.
The year of the dead and the dying.
More than three million Americans who were here last Christmas are gone, on to the next life, the eternal light, the silent darkness, the aftermath of wonder, to the stars, to the valley, the long road whose end we cannot see.
Bad poetry cannot save us. Santa shall not heal us.
The mounting death strikes us as Jupiter and Saturn merged in the night sky, appearing closer than they have in 800 years, a drop of scientific heaven which lets us look into the winter darkness and see two gas titans of our solar system appear to be right near each other while still more than 450 million miles apart.
The dark skies tell lies in the year of the dead.
Because this is the year of the dead most of us could not even see this rarest of spectacles. It was cloudy. Earth’s sky had ideas of rain, maybe snow, and cared little that it was getting in our way.
The ceaseless march to the grave for millions of our brothers and sisters and the cursed majesty of the Milky Way strike us on a day when some took their dogs to the dog park and met a little boy named Roman and his charming puppy named, we don't lie, Mr. Pancake.
It happened like this: Roman entered the park with his mother and we heard them calling out to their puppy who jumped and darted with the other dogs and we asked, with a surprised smile, "Pancake? His name is Pancake?"
"Actually," the young mother who might not be that young but all girls look young when they wear masks and big winter hats said, "it's Mr. Pancake."
It has to be.
Mr. Pancake was a gem, a beagle mix who indeed looked very much like a canine pancake; gold and white and delicious as he rolled through the mud, barked at the cold, and challenged the other dogs with his speed, agility, and indefatigable puppiness.
Mr. Pancake was born this year, The Year of the Dead, the Christmas of the coldest uncertainty. Maybe before he fell asleep tonight he looked into the sky and, with those savage little dog eyes, could see Jupiter, Saturn, Pluto and forever. Maybe one dog could see beyond Christmas 2020 and into New Year’s eternity.
All dogs can squint and see space without borders, time without time, life without a tally of death.--TK
Monday, December 21, 2020