Christmas gift

Uncle Otto’s ashes are on my mantle.

Still.

Every time I try to rid myself of them aunt Ana says “Where’d I put them? You got a big house and that beautiful oaken mantle. That honors him. Me? I got a broken down trailer in a broken down trailer park. If I took him home he’d look down and bemoan that I brought him home. He’s made it. Don’t you see? He couldn’t get here in life, but he’s got the good life now. ”

I find her tiresome. And scary.