OLD WINE

One of the first words he learned as a toddler was Death. He did not know what it meant exactly but he thought of it as something heroic. He saw ants and insects dying, and keeping still, something he could not do at all. When he started using sentences he repeated obsessively, 'I killed a mosquito, the mosquito died'. He watched superheroes killing villains and imagined himself a superhero freeing the world of evil. Then as a child he understood that Death took people away, even loved ones, never to return. He spent many sleepless nights fearing the unspeakable- what if Death took his most beloved person in the whole world- his mother- away? That was when he started believing in God and he prayed to Him to spare her.

During History classes in school Death became heroic again. This time he knew there were no demons, but enemies. He fought enemies, he wanted to die in a war, saving his people, his country. He became active in school politics and soon started fighting for student rights. During the many rebellions he imagined himself dying on the field fighting for a cause. Then that lost its charm, too.

When he met the second most wonderful girl (next to his mother) on earth, he wrote love poems with his own blood, and proclaimed to die for his noble love. When she refused to go out with him he thought of jumping off cliffs, and when she still was not bothered, he got bored. So he bought his first motorbike. While zooming past cars on the highway he glanced sideways and saw Death travelling with him. He winked, and the next moment he saw the huge truck looming right on to his face. He swerved and fell to the curb and at that precise moment saw Death winking and zooming past him. He sighed gratefully and smiled.

Wife and life took over; fancies and adventures were soon forgotten. As years moved swiftly, Death took many of his loved ones, and he saw that life still moved on. Grandchildren came, they boasted of killing demons, they boasted of becoming war heroes. He just smiled proudly. A bout with a serious illness made him think he was about to meet Death, but that too passed.

And at last, after a long and wholesome life, he rested on his bed, surrounded by his large family and friends. He smiled at each of them, offered a comforting word, and behind them, in the corner of the room he saw a strange, yet so familiar face. Face of his old friend, his forever co-traveler. He extended his hand which his friend shook firmly, and took lovingly, as they embraced. ‘Time to go’ He nodded, took a long, last glance at his world, smiled, and as they walked off, he looked Death in the eyes and said, ‘I like this happy ending, friend’.