Posted by Melissa Baumgart
I ran into Amy this morning in the stairwell, and she was telling me about a small cemetery she passed on a recent trip in California.
"I grew up across the street from a cemetery!" I blurted out.
I can't believe I totally forgot about that, but maybe having that small cemetery right across the street has stuck with me somehow. Seeing as how I picked hanging out in cemeteries for a month on the blog.
The two graves were surrounded by a black stone wall. As I grew in inches every year, I got closer and closer to seeing over the top. Before I could see over the wall though, I remember having adults place me on top of the wall, and walking all around the perimeter of the tiny cemetery as I held on tight to their hand. I think by the time I was able to peer easily over the foreboding wall, I was more interested in boys and best friends, to care very much anymore.
I don't remember anything creepy about it sleeping so close to two graves. The cemetery was just there, a permanent part of my childhood landscape, not a place where dead people were underground.