On October 29, 2014 Ken Nicholson keeled over.
The day began like any other dark morning in late October. He’d gone out to get the paper, returned to the house to drop it on the kitchen counter as he grabbed his car keys and satchel to go to the office. He stepped out of the house and latched the door behind him.
The morning air felt imposing and odd, as if the atmosphere had a greater density than usual. As he clinked through the gate and headed down the sidewalk toward the garage to begin his day, a strange thought occurred to him, even appealed to him. The thought entered his mind to fall over, which he proceeded to do.
Now he is lying on his side on the grass, wondering how long it will be till his wife comes out to let the geese out of the barns. It should be light by then, so she will likely notice him.
He’s hoping she will run out to him and not back into the house to call 911. He’d like her to know he’s fine, just felt like doing something different today.
He feels the moist chill of the earth and listens to the sounds around him. There are also other sounds, including the increasing inner noise, his tinnitus, the ringing in his ears that sounds very similar to a marsh filled with spring peepers…
Some days are like that. But not today. There’s too much to do. No time to keel over. No time to… No time… No…
Originally published at https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com.