If Jerry Kismee knew that his stubborn insistence for raspberry jam with his pancakes on new year’s morning would result in the death of his beloved wife Donna Kismee, he may have reconsidered his childish behavior.
An evening of prayer and an hour of Monopoly had marked the couple’s New Year’s Eve celebration. What else could a couple in their late seventies do?
If Jerry hadn’t been diabetic and arthritic and Donna could afford more exertion with her pacemaker, the two might have painted the town red, blue and green. Their younger years had seen many shades of frolicking colors.
But since this was no longer the case, the two had slept at exactly nine-thirty and woken up to a rainy morning and growling stomachs. Jerry and Donna had pecked each other’s cheeks and settled into a long embrace, saying nothing but feeling the love and comfort of many well-spent years together.
As they had risen and lumbered towards the kitchen, Jerry had felt a bit reckless, letting his tongue confess the sins his mouth wished to commit.
Raspberry jam with my pancakes!
Donna had clicked her tongue and waggled her finger. Jam was out of bounds for a stiff-jointed diabetic. It was only spinach and banana pancakes with a mug of black coffee. Jerry had pretended not to hear his wife’s words and had reached for the jam hidden behind the toaster.
As his palm had wrapped around the jar, his mouth had begun to water, and his eyes had flickered with childlike delight. But Donna was a disciplinarian and couldn’t allow Jerry to be careless and had grabbed at the jar and pulled in her direction.
But Jerry was stronger than he looked, and he had refused to let go. A tug of war ensued which then lasted for only fifteen seconds. Jerry’s twisted fingers ditched him at the last second which was the exact moment that Donna had tugged with all her remaining might.
The jar had regained its freedom, but Donna had fallen backwards, her head striking the edge of the marble top kitchen counter. The glass jar had shattered, and an aged skull had cracked rendering the jam and Donna useless on the kitchen floor.
Jerry’s cries for help had brought over a concerned neighbor who had then phoned the paramedics. The old man’s teary account of what had led to his wife’s freakish demise made several hearts shudder.
An unfamiliar voice issued an odd but true statement.
What a waste of precious life.
Jerry’s weepy reply was heartfelt and instant.
And raspberry jam.