95/365 Green

"The green is for Lynn," I explain to Hildegard as we stand in the church for a moment admiring the banners.

"What?" she looks puzzled.

"I guess you didn't notice--the last Worship meeting? She said that the thing she didn't like about my Easter banner from last year was the green. Couldn't understand why I used green." I think about that banner, about why I used green. About dawn and life and the shattering of the natural progression from life to death. But then again, I've seen Lynn's banners and they're lame (la-may, I mean, the shiny fabric) and velour and too representative.

"Bridgett!" Hildegard giggles at me.

"Yeah, when I started pinning that down around the red, I thought, 'take that, Lynn.'"

"You know Bridgett, last year's Easter banner? I want you to will it to me, in the unlikely event that I would outlive you." She says this lightly but I know she means it. We've talked about last year's banner before.

"Ok," I agree.

"And if we still know each other," she makes a vague gesture with her hands, "when I die, I want you to come down to San Antonio with that banner and process all around with it. Place it up in front with," she pauses, considering, "the urn or whatever they have."

I can just imagine.