In the end, it's all about me

You check the time. Perfect. As intended, you've arrived fashionably late.  You do so hope that everyone came out to see you.  Nothing quite stirs your soul like a house full of guests.  Watching.  Your favorite.  With luck, no one will really notice you right away.  After all, you were not expected to be making an entrance today, of all days.

You slip inside, close on the heels of a small group of younger men and women.  None of their faces stand out to you.  Most likely friends of friends, showing up and hoping for a looksee, and for some free food and booze.  Well, you can’t blame them.  You remember doing the same thing with your friends, back when you were their age.  Their youthful energy gives you a good cover while you take an initial gander at your guests. 

A full house.  Perfect.  You knew there would be, yet, there was that small part of you, that fearful, little voice, that whispered “what if no one shows?”.  You let out a soft giggle of relief, startling yourself.  Get a grip, man.  It wouldn’t do to have you break down in fits of laughter and draw attention to yourself.  It would ruin the fun.  Too early for that.

One of the catering staff approaches you with a tray full of wine glasses.   As you lift off a glass you look into their eyes.  They smile back, and, as you watch, you see their eyes enlarge ever so slightly.  They glance over at an array of framed photographs, spread out over the hunt table near the entrance.  Their smile falters, and is replaced with a look of confusion.  You thank them kindly and move on, leaving them to ponder the clarity of their vision and the benefits of a good night’s sleep.

You take a sip of the wine.  Before it even touches your lips you already know it is a Chianti.  You were very clear on that point.  Just as you know there are stations, set up with comfort food, spread out for all to enjoy.  Pirohi smothered in buttered onions, chicken pot pie with enough flaky crust that you have some in every bite,  fresh baked bread with soft butter and honey.  These were some of the things that you wanted to make sure that would be there for all, when they needed them.  

Now to the business at hand.  You move on towards the Great Hall.  You imagine your heart is beating faster.  Pausing, right before the entrance, you move to the side.  From here you have a clear vantage of those already present, while holding on to those last few seconds of anonymity. 

The Great Hall is decked with vase, after vase, of freshly cut flowers.  Calla Lilies seem to be popular, as well as Carnations and Chrysanthemums.  Figures.  Most of the vases seem to be situated near the center.  That’s where you see the flowers that you specified.  A half dozen stoneware crocks, crammed with Sunflowers of all sizes and colors.  Each crock with a twine tied sign, letting your guests know that they should “Take One”.  You wonder what they will all make of that.  A few will probably figure that it was just another sign that you had gone a bit mad.  To those that knew you, well, they would understand.

It does please you to see that several of your guests, albeit mostly the children and young ladies, took you up on your offer.  You find another giggle trying to escape as you watch two of your grandsons, dueling with their sunflowers.  En Garde D'artagnan!  Even more heart pleasing is watching your own children smile and encourage the dueling pair.  They know what matters to you.  It is also reassurance that you did do something right.  Regardless of what the day brings, they are facing it together and with laughter.

You look around.  So many people.  So many friends.  Some Family.  Some not.  It doesn’t really matter.  They are all there for one, single purpose.  To see you.  You have memories of each.  Life!  Experienced with each of these people that have been a part of what makes you, You..  The culmination of a lifetime.  You falter for a moment, as the enormity of their emotions hits you.

Eyes forward, you enter.  With a single, persistent intention, you make your way to the center.  People stir around you.  You hear gasps.  Some of dismay, some of delight.  You’d like to think more of the latter. The commotion builds around you, but you pay it no heed.  Soon enough, you make your way to where you need to be.

You look down.  Yes, well, you would have much preferred linen shorts and shirt, and a pair of well trod sandals.  Ah, but there are certain proprieties that must be followed for these events.  At least they chose the dark grey bespoke. You always said it was the most comfortable suit you owned; you could wear it forever and still look crisp and dapper. Heh.  You’re going to find out now just how true that is, now.  

You look around again.  All eyes are on you.  The ones that have remained, that is, and not those that scurried away, or slumped to the floor.  You smile and bow, which seems to thin the crowd out even more.  

You look back down.  Cold steel. Maybe aluminum?  Stylish you suppose.  Although way too many ruffles for your taste.  You had asked for fertilizer, or a bonfire.  No.  There were some things that even you couldn’t convince them of.  With a bit of exertion you get inside.  You wiggle a bit to get yourself positioned just so.  You lay down on your back.  Taking a moment you appreciate the extra padding and... is that?  Yes! A Sobokawa pillow.  Nice touch.  You take one last look.  Definitely too many ruffles.  They get in the way of telling the true texture of what’s around you.  Ah well, such is Life.  You close your eyes.  You are ready to begin.