Folksburywoods Story Blog

Quiddling: Busying oneself with trivial tasks as a way of avoiding the important ones.

“There you are, all spit and polish,” Anya said with a gleam in her eye.

“Now on to clean the pantry,” said the woman.

Anya had been married for 90 years when her husband died in a mining accident one year ago.

“Such a pig pen, I must dust all the shelves,” pronounced the matron.

On the anniversary of his death, the custom is for the surviving spouse to bring the deceased’s favorite food. They take it to the grave. This act honors the loss.

“What a fine sunny day, I must wash the bedding before the rains come,” exclaimed the woman.

Anya could not bring herself to visit the stone marker, the only thing that remained of her loved one.

“I’m sure the weeds have returned in the garden. Best pop out and see they are uprooted before they grow enormous,” said the woman.

Anya rose early and cooked pork knuckle and taro pie as she had done every year on Goject’s birthday.

When it came time to head out, she found herself busy with a thousand minor duties.

Now, the sun hung low, and the matron sat at the table holding the basket and weeping.

“I don’t want to see that stone. You were so much more than a slab of rock,” cried Anya.

Taking a deep breath, the matron rose and walked to the graveyard in silence.

The widow placed the dishes in front of his name. She bowed, then turned and walked away. She did not retrieve the dishes.

“I do not need extra plates, it’s just one now, and that’s all that will ever be,” muttered the woman.

Anya never returned to the stone while she was alive.

When her friends laid her to rest next to her husband, they placed matching dishes at each of the headstones.

“Now they can finally enjoy a meal in peace,” said Malak Gojeck’s brother.

And so they did…

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