Conversation

She leads me down the street, angling for the right corners, right hill to get us to the cemetery.

Hemlocks loom. The stones are worn, fallen, most dates are from the 1800s. Old names: the Hirams and Huldahs, the Eziekiahs and Azadahs. Mother. Wife. Child.

She's in a different past, one of groundhogs (who pull up the bones) deer, bunnies, birds. I let her lead me along their snowy trails, follow the scents of recent stories, while I read of the ones who passed here long ago.

#smallstories