The Urn

“You’re an idiot!” Meghan exclaimed when I told her what happened. “How could you lose Mom’s ashes?”
I think this deserves an explanation before continuing with my story. My name is Jonah; I’m twenty-one years old. I have two sisters; we are triplets. The youngest is called Meghan. She is a spoiled brat, the diva and the most popular of the school. My accomplice. The other is Yvonne, the eldest of the three … and you can tell. She was the perfect daughter, perfect student, and legalistic. She even dressed like a school director. It was like a second mother … but less fun. Meghan and I weren’t very close to Yvonne because if something gets out of control, she would betray us and give us away for our crimes. She has a strong sense of survival. It was not like this in the past.
Our mother is called Elissa; Three years ago she was diagnosed with lung cancer. Before she died, she told us that she wanted to be cremated and that her ashes were scattered in her favorite place: the beach. Well, that’s what we did: when Mom died, we cremated her. Yvonne put her ashes in a silver urn and decided to go on Friday afternoon all three of us together to the beach. Before going to the beach, Meghan and I met at the old house. While Yvonne finished getting ready, I took the urn, went out into the yard to walk and remember Mom.
I will miss her laughter when Meghan told jokes, the tasty pizza she prepared on Saturday nights and when she spontaneously started singing an old song from when she was young. I will miss Mom.
Suddenly, I stumbled on a stone; the ashes fell on the grass and a strong breeze took them away. Mom! It can’t be. Yvonne is going to kill me! I ran into the room and told Meghan everything that happened. So, let’s go back to the story…
“You’re an idiot!” exclaimed Meghan. “How could you lose Mom’s ashes?”
“It was an accident.”
“What shall we say to Yvonne?”
“What do you have to tell me?” asked Yvonne, who was behind us. She caught us. She’s going to kill us. My hands are sweating. I looked at Meghan looking for words to say. She shrugged her shoulders and gave me a look that said: The truth?
“Yvonne,” I said after a long silence, “Mother’s ashes fell on the patio and the breeze took them away. I am so sorry. I hope you can forgive me. “Yvonne stared at me, silent. She’s going to explode, I thought.
“Okay,” Yvonne replied.
What? That’s it? Is she okay with this? Is she crazy?
“Aren’t you … furious?” Meghan asked, impersonating what I was also thinking.
“No, I’ll confess something.” We look at her closely. Yvonne had never confided us a secret. “I lost Mom’s ashes a few days ago. The urn fell from the second floor. What you lost was the ashes of burned newspapers. ”
Meghan, Yvonne and I laughed so hard that our stomachs ached. Mom would be happy to see us now.


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