I return to Sacred Hearts Cemetery. The sky lightly overcast, dampening the sun's intensity. Albeit light to start with. 79°.
Resting against a tombstone (behind it), I remove my shoes and socks, realizing the socks have not been taken off in nearly a week. Oxygen re-permeats the skin, where I glide my hand across the bottom of my feet, recognizing the callous and blistered skin has healed to a smooth, baby-soft texture.
I spot something in the grass. A large bug. Like that of a praying mantis, but NOT a praying mantis. It's limbs lurch and bend over the top of a blade of grass, I stare for a moment.
Not knowing if it is poisonous, nor risking it, I take one of my shoes and come down hard on its head. A crunch with bug guts light the quiet death park with noise for a brief moment
An essence, like that of Xmas cookies, fills the air. Something the insect used to possess. A defense, a mating trait – the gravesite came alive with sweetness and memories of peanut butter cookies before a holiday party. The mild, shared excitement. The anticipation of company. The timid, though jovial, greetings at the door when each member entered.
It's Holiday season again. My lone status does not effect these past moments of life. I, now, and always, am grateful and fine with being here. Earthside. A lone, hermit life is how I prefer myself to be. Always.
Still, the lingering scent of an old batch of sweets and detailed memory of times Once Were™ make me think I need to recreate this, again. With my own people. My own Family/Friends. It's what we're here for.
××× ttyl