Rain

Rain, rain, rain and a funeral. A long walk across the cemetery. So much wind that umbrellas are turned inside out, useless after today. The coffin is painted lily white, quite theatrical. Her whole life was a play, her funeral is her last act, she the leading lady. Her daughter tells us how desperately she had wanted a "normal" mother when she was just a child, a mother who baked cookies, made apple pies, a mother who owned an apron. Instead she would take her daughter to a theatre, put her in a seat with a lollypop to keep het quiet, and would then suddenly appear on stage in funny clothes, talking, acting and walking differently from her normal self, making a fool of herself. Her daughter would be ashamed of her, would be glad when the play was over and her mother had transformed herself again into the mother she knew.