I ended up with a great deal of time on my hands last Sunday, and I decided to visit my mother's grave for the first time since we buried her. I don't think much of cemeteries, myself. They're landfills. That's not my mother any more than a crumpled up beer can is. Visiting once every two decades is just fine.
I snaked through the Catholic cemetery, peering at the street names, trying to remember on which street I planted Mom. The names are all Catholic, of course. There's St. Luke the Wise street. Theresa the Merciful street. And then I hit upon it, and with a rush I remembered my teenage-self chuckling when he pointed to a map and asked if there were any plots available on that street.
