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Cookies
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. For 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."