On our way home from my parent’s house today I saw behind me in the rearview mirror that the sun was huge and blood red, just like the moon had been yesterday.
It was getting late and I needed to get Elise home for a shower and get her to bed at a reasonable hour, so I didn’t want to go too far out of my way but I really felt compelled to pull over somewhere and try to capture at least a little something from what, somewhere, was a spectacular sunset.
So, you know.
I ended up spending a half hour or so driving around the cemeteries on either side of Jefferson Avenue until the sun started setting in earnest.
I kept remarking on how cool things were – look how cool that grave is from 1789! Look, that grave was a baby’s! Look at that tomb! Look at that marble!
And Elise in the back seat ooohing and aaaahing right along with me, not knowing the weight of all the dead resting among us. Not knowing there are a lot of people out there pissed off about people like me who exploit the dead’s lands, as if they can’t be enjoyed by the living.
Well, turns out they can.
They’re all filled with loss, and love, and light, and histories that we’ll never know but someone at some time wanted to be remembered.
So this is how we do.