The Funeral

I keep saying I will post on this, so I guess I should. Its not like I have studying to do or anything.

Since I was very young, I had a perfectly distinct memory of attending a funeral. Many of the details have faded with time. Here is what I remember now. I walked in with my mother, into a room that was almost as skinny as a hallway. Approximately the width of a person's height, because there was just room for the casket at one end. As you walk in, the room is divided in half by the door, casket on the left. On the right-side, the room ended with white posts, strait across. As if people could peek in, without entering the door. The chairs were along each wall, facing inward. Mom had me sit in a chair to the right of the room, while she went to view the deceased. I remember looking at the wallpaper(obviously not the same pattern, but similar idea) bordering the ceiling. I remember the frilly little dress I was wearing, with the ribbon woven through the waist. I remember Mom asking if I wanted to go up and say goodbye.

Several years later, our family piled into the minivan and headed for some town North of St. Joe, to attend the funeral of a man who (to me) was a distant relative. I don't remember who. Someone mentioned offhand that this would be my first funeral. Obviously they had forgotten that I attended the one so long ago?? I insisted. My mother was certain. I described every detail. Do you remember Mom?? You finish the story.

Of course, maybe she was just screwing with me. She's like that sometimes.

***BORING UPDATE***
Well, Mom is no fun. She's gonna pretend she never said that that was a perfect description of a funeral SHE attended when SHE was little BEFORE I was born. That's what she said in the van that day. But now? No fun. Maybe she's just pissy because I posted those pictures of HER HAIR the other day.