ashes to ashes, dust to dust

i bought two scarves, secured them both around my neck. it was cold. she wore a sweater and a veil of pragmatism over her faithful face.

we lived in separate rooms, with one common wall between us. i press my ear to it and could hear her pray in the wee hours of the morn.

she collected the ashes of her deceased relatives. they were in jars, labeled, above the fireplace. each was juxtaposed with a mahogany-framed photo of the deceased.

i remember, in those days, i had no deceased relatives that would merit jarred ashes. i began to collect dust and put it in jars. i labeled them with the date. it embellished my mantel thoroughly.