Dear Heroes Resting on the Elysian Fields,
I hope you have it this good.
I really do.
I hope you have hot showers, and hot water in which to wash dishes, thanks to a reinvigorated RV water system. (The Bosun wields tools like nobody’s business—you can always call him if your system breaks down.)
In the evenings, I hope the Shades rig up a big-screen TV for you for Jane Austen movie nights, with selections like the 1995 BBC version of Persuasion. After your funeral games (how’s that work down there?) and displays of archery excellence, I hope you grab bundles of firewood from the Styx Store, douse the stuff in “boy-scout water,” and grin at the flames jumping high as the sun starts to set and the breeze starts to lay down and the world starts to turn more slowly.
I hope Hades lets you fire up an old outdoor stereo with a tape deck (are these things antiques for you, too?). I hope he lets you scroll through the local FM stations till you find some classic country and blare it just loud enough to make Cerberus howl along a little.
Does Achilles bring the beer? Have he and Hector buried the hatchet? Does Agamemnon pull out coolers of M&M ice-cream sandwiches to pass around?
I hope so. Because all that stuff feels awfully, awfully good.
A Girl Who Thinks Elysium Should Come With a Twenty-Year-Old RV, a Loyal Brindle Dog, and a Couple Twilights in a Place That Isn’t “Home”