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Grave Yard Reflections

The sun is setting and the apparent luminescence of the distant stars begins populating the sky. The moon, I’m sure, has been proudly out since dinner but I don’t look at it. I feel heavy, weighty, a constant sadness that I can’t shake. I notice the dew from the grass in the yard that has gently moistened my Clarks as I step onto the little 2 lane road. It feels like tears on my toes and I find solace.

I’m strolling slowly, past the little homes built almost a lifetime ago, Television sets flickering through thinly veiled windows into the darkening night, a second-floor lamp glowing as if a sentry on watch, a kitchen blazing with activity. All of a sudden heaviness shifts its center of gravity from my shoulders to my chest because I start thinking about existence, brevity, and fragility. I do this too often for my own good, I think.

The old stone church comes into view, lit up in its exhibitionistic glory. I walk past it and onto the little paved loop, tombstones branching outward as if they were leaves and the path a branch. The dates and styles are an eclectic mix of old and much older.

“Is the mixture of light and gray beautiful?” I start to query before I hear a doe throw me a snort, voicing her obvious disdain towards my presence. I ask myself if she is aware of who she is walking on. And I wonder aloud “Does she have her favorite one? Does a corpse that lived a happy life produce tastier grass?”

It’s too dark to read the names and the dates and that is more than okay. I’m too tired to think about anyone else’s existence other than my own at the moment. My spirit guide moves on and it’s calm, so I decide to lay down for a moment on the blacktop and look up. So many of them out there right now, endless in their numbers and in their distance. Have these constellations always been here or have we all been conditioned to see them as they are? Look, there is the little dipper and there is Gemini, and Pisces over there if I remember correctly.

I wonder if my friends lying with me have any insights to this distraction of a question? They would be the experts, so many moons to do nothing but stare up at the sky and think. By now they have spent more time resting in the ground than was spent wandering the hills and valleys of the living.

I decide that I should show some respect to these elders who gave me a moment of their time. “Can you help me with a question that has been on my mind? Why do we exist? And how do we know its value?” I am offended and unnerved by their unanimous response. “I’m sorry,” I say, “I need to go for a walk” as I stand back up and make my way back home to slip into my bed and sleep off my existential crises.




 

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