An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's
agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite
chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. He
gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself
from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly
made his way out of the bedroom, and with even
greater effort forced himself down the stairs,
gripping the railing with both hands. With labored
breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into
the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would
have thought himself already in heaven. There,
spread out upon newspapers on the kitchen table were
literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip
cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of
heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that
he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great
final effort, he threw himself toward the table,
landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His
parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of the cookie
was already in his mouth; seemingly bringing him
back to life. The aged and withered hand, shakingly
made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table,
when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his
wife.
"Stay out of those," she said, "they're for the funeral." |
