My inheritance-
this tiny family graveyard;
My bone-stuffed garden
maybe this one is better:
My bone-stuffed garden,
This tiny family graveyard-
My inheritance
this tiny family graveyard;
My bone-stuffed garden
maybe this one is better:
My bone-stuffed garden,
This tiny family graveyard-
My inheritance
*My family does actually have a small, private cemetery in my hometown, my father is buried there. The site overlooks the West branch of the Niagara River. My mother used to do some of the groundskeeping and I grew up playing among the gravesites, daydreaming, reading, chasing bugs, sometimes wiggling loose markers or picking the roses from the bush that covered a great-great aunt's plot and putting them on other graves, because it was good to share. I never thought this was morbid or weird and just assumed every family had a little cemetery for themselves and they all did stuff like this. My husband was extremely weirded out when I took him to visit and to hang out, and this embarassed me profoundly for some reason I can't quite articulate. I miss my cemetery.
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