Summer in the Cemetery

May 3, 2008
The gravel grinds against our shoes, making a crisp noise, as we enter. A balmy July breeze blows as if the spirits’ way of saying hello. Passing the gate an immediate feeling of calm comes over me. We continue walking, winding our way through the paths of graves. My hand brushes against one of the cold, hard, stones. An aroma of fresh flowers for the recently missed mixes with the smell of newly cut grass as they both flow along with the wind.

I wander away from my friends when the green field calls to me. The damp grass is refreshing from the hot summer rays. A hum of the passing cars in the distance and the murmur of the nearby creek lull me into a daze. I open my eyes slightly as I hear the giggle of my friends coming to join me. To my left I see the grave stones casting shadows as the sun moves lower in the sky.

Above me the clouds in the bright blue sky move much too quickly, as if reminding us how precious time truly is. Another breeze tickles my hair around my face. To me the wind makes an almost whisper in the grass, as if it’s spirits thanking us for bringing such energy into where there is just mourning. Sadly, it’s time to leave. As the sun shines through the branches of moss-covered trees, I tell the spirits I’ll be back the next beautiful day.

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