Clean me up.

 

 

 (Suzanne Kulperger photo)

 

If I’m lucky enough to die in the right place, here’s what I’d like them to do:

Wash my body thoroughly - wash off the thirty five years of sawdust - wash off the two years of restaurant kitchen grease - wash off the eight months of night shift fry-o-lator oil - wash off the year of taxi driving grit - wash off the year-and-a-half of machine shop grime - wash off the four years of charcoal, ink, paint and clay.

When that’s all gone, the scars will show. The scars will tell their little stories from the first to the last.