After my wife was buried in Lakewood Cemetery, she showed up at our front door the next day, dirt and grass falling off her. I said to her, “What? Do you think you’re Jesus now?”
“No,” she said, “I just got bored lying in that box in the ground all day.”
I said, “I can see your point, but you’re supposed to be dead.”
“Um, ya, but being dead got boring too.”
At that point, my mind began doing flip flops; my vision got blurry; my nerves got frayed; my extremities began to tremble, and I remembered I hadn’t taken my meds. I staggered to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and, shaking, gulped down all my happy pills.
My physical and mental faculties restored, I returned to where my wife was standing, and she was gone. And I vowed never to forget to take my meds again.
Bob Boyd