The Transmigration of the Body

     From time to time much attention is given to the idea of transmigration of the soul. The belief that souls, both human and animal, leave their bodies at death and are reborn in another form. Adherents are going to be desperately disappointed when they die and discover instead of reincarnation they face eternal damnation. Multiple lifetimes would only give us more opportunities to condemn ourselves. We can never get it right spiritually. But what I am concerned about is the transmigration of the body.
     In the 40 plus years we have been married, Reed and I have shared a lot of things, a few of which are homes, beds, and as a consequence, children. I don't mind sharing, but the part where they say married couples begin to look alike is where I draw the line. We are not out of shape. Round is a shape. But he has his way of being well rounded and I have mine. So we are both fervently hoping the looking alike thing is not true, but perhaps we are sharing traits. Neither of us have waist lines anymore. Both of us have wrinkles, age spots and boobs. And in time, both of us will have mustaches. What makes me suspicious of body migration is that as my eyebrows have thinned, Reed's have thickened. His eyebrows have grown to Gandalf proportions while mine have shriveled to wimpy wisps. I can only conclude that during the night, for some traitorous reason, mine have been migrating to my husband's face. My weight, joints, skin and hair have already betrayed me, and now they have apparently enlisted my eyebrows. Although even middle aged men become victims of their own hair migration. Hair leaves their head and finds a new home in their ears, nose and brows. Reed's chest hair is now longer than he ever wore it on his head. For a formal occasion, I could braid it.
     The only place my soul will migrate to after I die is heaven. My body is the part that gets the redo, and I get happier about that every day.