The Drive Home.

Dr Suess meets Rene Descartes...

The casket buried, funeral done.
A car drove home on Freeway One.
And inside, sat in zero chatter.
Mother, father, son and daughter.

But then the silence finally ceased.
When Claudia Jean (five) rose like yeast.
“Mum and Dad”, young CJ said.
“What does it mean that Grandma’s dead?”

Aghast, a sharp, staccato chorus.
Ums and aahs and ‘ask your fathers’.
Parental stroke, then broke, amen.
Through sage advice from Maverick (ten).

“Geez you’re dumb Ceej, don’t you know?”
Then rubbed some snot across his nose.
“When people die that means they’re gone.”
“Like Auntie Mae and Grandpa John.”

Mum steadied, then spoke firm but soft.
She didn’t chide, she never scoffed.
Angel bathed in mother’s light.
She said, “Now Mav that’s not quite right.”

“Though Nan has fallen off the bough,
That’s why she will not visit now.
She’s not all gone, just part, not whole.
Nan’s still here, but just her soul.”

Curious words from her admirer
roused interest from the first inquirer.
And from within as was her style,
CJ beamed the purest smile.

“What’s a soul Mum? You must know!
Can we make one when we get home?!
That play dough I dropped on the mat.
Can I make a soul from that?”

“Good Lord Ceej, that’s quite a quiz!
But as to what it really IS?
It’s hard to say dear, souls are odd.
They cannot die and come from God.”

At that Dad perked up, no fatigue.
And viewed his partner, most intrigued.
This reason that his dearest posed.
He might not let through unopposed.

“Your Mum’s not right, it’s just not true.
There is no soul inside of you.
Your arms, legs, brains and what-have-you.
It’s just those things that make you you.”

“Jake!” his partner now exclaimed,
“You don’t know half of what you claim!”
But a simple question Mav implored.
Stopped the burgeoning holy war.

“Sorry Dad, I have to ask it. Were Nan’s arms inside the casket
‘Of course they were Mav.’ Dad replied.
Mav befuddled, paused and sighed.
“Then how come people say she died?”

Dad held his wrinkled brow in hand.
“Mav, what don’t you understand?
She died, her body’s in that box.
She’s no more living than those rocks.”

“You said we’re made from arms and breasts, elbows, tummies and the rest.
Nan’s arms are still there; fingers, rings. Her brain is there and everything.
If the bits that make her haven’t gone, then why’s she not my Grandma Dawn?

“Bravo Mav, that’s quite perceptive.”
(Dad whilst pondering contraceptives.)
The reason Mav, just why that’s nonsense,
Grandma’s dead cause she’s not conscious.

“Conshuss!” CJs lips mouthed out.
Face full of wonder, full of doubt.
“Conshuss, kinshus, quanshuss, queen!
It’s fun to say Dad! What’s it mean?”

As Jake had told his childless friends, the baffling questions never end.
As while both parents mumbled, trailed, Mav nibbled and bit his nails.
Then swiftly, apropos of nought,he had a fun and silly thought.

“Dad” he said, a pause, a beat.
“When I chew my nails are they not me?”
Happy back on firmer ground,
Dad breathed in deeply to expound.

“Your nails are you.” but Mav with doubt,
said “Are they once I spit them out?”
“Well no…” said Dad. “They’re not you then”
Perturbed at this by Master Ten.
“As part of you they’re shown the door.Once they fall and hit the floor.”

A penny dropped, the other shoe.
CJ squealed and yelled out “Poo!”
“Oh no!” thought Gwen, “It’s all that dairy.”
Toilet countdowns could get hairy.

“No Dad, no!” her heart was beating.
“I said poo for different reasons.
If spat out nails are now not you
Is it the same when I go poo?”

“Yes Ceej, your plopsies stop being you.
Once they drop into the loo.”
Dad raced to keep up, overwrought.
This was harder than he thought.

Enjoying seeing her husband strain.
Gwen chimed in now, once again.
And like a Sherpa, like a guide.
Approached it from the other side.

“So which things aren’t then become us?
Mum posed the question to discuss.
“Lunch!” yelled CJ, that was true.
Food was not, then was part of you.

Unless of course it made you sick.
Your lunch was like a magic trick.
It went in one end, out came poo.
But all the rest turned into you!

Breath and sweat were just the same.
In they went and out they came.
Through sweating, breathing, air, and food.
The dance of you-ness continued.

“If nails...”, Mav said “are me and you
but then they’re not, and nor is poo.
But once I eat, I’m made of beans.
Dad, what does being us even mean?”

Grasping now for certainty,
Dad tapped his forehead urgently.
“AHA! My scar, it does not change.
I got it at the driving range.”

“No Jake no, that’s just not true.
You got your scar in ‘ninety-two.
”Since then,” Gwen said with self-effacement.
”You’ve gone through complete replacement.”

“Replacement? Nonsense! I’m still me!”
Jake snorted back defensively.
“The bits from when that scar was current?
I’m sorry Jake, but no you aren’t.”

“Mav cuts his nails, they grow back new.
It’s true for every part of you.
Your hair, your arms, your scar, your face.
Though some be slow, and some make haste.

Just SEVEN years is all food takes.
To build one spanking brand-new Jake.
The Jake I married, he was you.
But now you’re Husband 4.2.

Suspecting that he might be beat.
Dad waved the white flag in defeat.
And in his first act of progression.
Shut his mouth, and asked a question.

“Conshuss, kinshus, quanshuss queen!
What the hell does conscious mean?
If every while all those bits change.
Then what’s the bit that stays the same?”

Once more sat in zero chatter.
Mother, father, son and daughter.
A pregnant pause, pushed then delivered.
It’s babe intruded all aquiver
Strong but soft like boxer’s gloves.
The back seat spoke and ventured, “Love?”

Six eyes housed in three shocked heads,
turned round to hear what CJ said.
“Love?”, Mum asked her tiny queen.
“CJ, ‘Love’? What do you mean?”

“Nan, she tucked us in and hugged us.
Told us jokes and said she loved us.
But even when she didn’t say,
I knew she loved me, anyway”

Mav responded “Yes, that’s true.
Cause I knew Nan longer than you.
She loved you five years, loved me ten.
And Pop Pop fifty more again.
Nan adored her brother Sean, on
Every day since he was born.
Even though she’s now moved on.
Nan loved us and that’s not gone.
And maybe though her body changed.
Her love’s the thing that stayed the same?”

Nearing home abreast a truck.
Two parents both sat thunderstruck.
Wisdom from those they’d begotten.
Too pure and young to have forgotten.

The car then swung a final turn.
Mum still frazzled, clipped the fern.
The drive home felt an Odyssey.
Jake turned and faced his chimpanzees.

“CJ, Maverick thank you both, you’ve helped your parents with their growth.
I hope the truth’s as you propose, the surer truth is no one knows.
It’s hard not knowing, all at sea, it takes strength and humility.
But inside that, what makes you strong, is daring to bear you might be wrong.
You’ve both taught me the way to learn, is asking ‘Why?’ and ‘How?’ in turn.”

At that their mother turned the key, and all four sat there quietly.
Through simple questions plain and slow, they’d learned how much they did not know.

And absent of this gross misgiving, walked inside and kept on living.