The Return of Aunt Elisha cont"How do I get the ashes over the Atlantic?" I wondered as the first implications of the legacy homed in on me. Do I need an export license here or an import license on the other side? Since Auntie would not be an illegal immigrant, it should be alright. Still I was worried. A vase of ashes was a peculiar thing to have in one's luggage. Not that it would offer any financial prospects for a money hungry customs officer but maybe it was a forbidden import, like plants and the like. I didn't think planting my Aunt's ashes would be so classified but you never know. I brooded over all of this until deciding just to carry the ashes inconspicuously in my luggage and chance having officialdom wrapped around my head. So I emptied them into a Woolworth's plastic bag and tied it securely. They'd hardly worry about that. And so, duly loaded up, I flew back over the Atlantic and passed through customs with flying colours, ready to do her bidding. The scattering would be completed without delay and so, soon after my arrival, I was standing on the doorstep of her old house. It was, of course, occupied by strangers to me but I had to ensure that my deposit in the bank equated with Auntie's in the garden.
"I wonder if I could use your garden to scatter my Aunt Elisha?" I said very politely.
"What do you mean?" asked the puzzled tenant who answered my knock. "You can't just take over my garden for your Aunt Elisha's benefit. Anyway - where is she?"
"In the bag. She's all in there and I've been instructed to scatter her over this garden which she once tended and - may I say - did a slightly better job of it than you." I added glancing critically over the by now weedy plot and at the same time, looking for a likely landing place for my homecoming Aunt. I was getting a little terse by this time.
"Well you can't. I've never heard the likes. It's the first time anybody has asked such a thing of me. I never even had the pleasure of meeting your Aunt Elisha - in the flesh so to speak. No! I'm sorry. You'll just have to find another garden to grace with your Aunt." And he closed the door, leaving me non-plussed on the step. I moved off, holding the bag tightly lest some of her fall into the gutter, a circumstance which neither she nor I could ever have countenanced in this sad time. It called for further thought. I decided to try again, in an effort to squeeze a little human kindness out of the householder. There must be some of that particular essence lurking behind those forbidding looks.
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