max Kruger-dull

“COFFIN STORY”

I buried my father with his reading glasses and a copy of Animal Farm, a winter hat, mittens, and a scarf I’d knitted for him, a bottle of Cognac, a bottle of his heart medication, his wedding ring, and an extra pair of clean underwear.

I buried my mother with her journals, the most thoughtful papers she’d written in college, her favorite mug, her plum bandana, my baby teeth, a coffee cake from the convenience store nearest my childhood home, a laser pointer I found in her desk, and a clean pair of underwear.

I buried my son only with a clean pair of underwear and his swimming cap. Swimming had been his only prominent interest. 

This morning, I told my husband what I wished to be buried with: my father’s copy of 1984, the rest of my mother’s college papers, my son’s other swimming caps, my husband’s water bottle preferably still sandy from one of his hikes, and part of the tree stump from our backyard. My husband asked why I’d break with such a charming family tradition and forgo the customary pair of clean underwear. Laughing, I said, “Only believers need a clean pair of underwear.”

I later asked my husband what he’d want to accompany him into the ground. “You,” he said. “And our son, my parents. My friends from preschool. My college history professors. And the folks I’ve met on my hikes. A time capsule of good people.” I only said, “That’s morbid and impossible.” 

But I should’ve said that his list was better than mine.

Max Kruger-Dull holds an MFA in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts. His recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in The MacGuffin, Litro Magazine, Eunoia Review, Baby Teeth Journal, and others. He lives in New York with his boyfriend and two dogs.