thejunipertree: (Default)
01 - Introduction
02 – Your first love
03 – Your parents (this is long as HELL
04 - What you ate today
05 - Your definition of love
06 - Your day
07 - Your best friend
08 - A moment
09 - Your beliefs (photo intensive) )

10 – What you wore today
11 – Your siblings
12 – What’s in your bag
13 – This week
14 – What you wore today
15 – Your dreams
16 – Your first kiss
17 – Your favorite memory
18 – Your favorite birthday
19 – Something you regret
20 – This month
21 – Another moment
22 – Something that upsets you
23 – Something that makes you feel better
24 – Something that makes you cry
25 – A first
26 – Your fears
27 – Your favorite place
28 – Something that you miss
29 – Your aspirations
30 – One last moment
thejunipertree: (the Baron)
October rarely spawns days like this one. It was practically eighty degrees and I squinted my eyes against the sun as I pulled my car through the gates of the cemetery.

I'm not completely sure where my grandfather is buried, I only have a general idea of the area his grave is in. But, I do know that he doesn't have a headstone and is surrounded by ones that do. So, I parked the Cadillac and started to walk in the general direction I remembered. It's vaguely near the areas where The Wee Ninja and I do all of our 'shopping', but closer to the caretaker's house. There have been so many times that she and I have snuck into this place at night, that I automatically and continually check over my should to see if anyone in the caretaker's place has taken note of my existence.

I wander through the stones slowly, watching the other people visit the graves of their loved ones. I don't think I've ever seen so many people in a cemetery at once. Is it because it's All Saint's Day, is this some sort of Catholic thing I don't know about? Counting, I discover fifteen people other then myself.

The paved paths aren't taking me close to where I need to go, so I head off into the grass. But, platform shoes aren't made for walking through bumpy graveyard lawns. Off they go and I'm drifting through the place with shoes in hand, like a girl for a walk on the beach. A few people give me the hairy eyeball, but screw them. I sincerely doubt they've ever tried to walk through a place like this in platforms and they obviously don't understand.

In the hand that's not holding my shoes, I have a plastic bag. In the plastic bag is a dark chocolate candy bar the size of my head (the one I forgot to bring on the camping trip in October), an unopened pack of cigarettes, a mostly full bottle of rum, a purple candle in a glass holder, a similar candle in black, and a small, laminated prayer card of Saint Gerard.

I'm standing in the general area of my grandfather's burial place, but am a bit stumped as to where exactly he is. Everything looks the same to me and there's a ton of places where an unmarked grave is surrounded by marked plots. I used to know where he was. Once, back in high school, I had gone to the caretaker's office and asked them specifically where he was. They drew me a map, with the coordinates laid out. But, that map is long gone. One of these days I'm going to have to go back to the office and ask them again. Also one of these days, when I have the money, I'm going to buy him a headstone.

I glance to my left and spy a gravestone marked, "LaCroix". Of the cross. It's also the name of one of the Barons. Straight above this grave is an unmarked one, surrounded by graves with headstones. I look up at the sky and smile. If this isn't a sign of where I'm supposed to be standing, then I don't know what is.

Kneeling down in the grass, I lay out the items from my bag in a neat pile. I whisper prayers under my breath to Legba and Papa Ghede, asking that my debts to them for the year to be paid. I light the candles, after checking over my shoulder again for anyone watching. I light a cigarette to myself and sit back, singing "Lay me low" (which has been going through my head all damn day).

Leaving everything but the bag in the grass, I walk back to the car with my shoes still in my hand. Filled with a soft quiet, I drive back home without the radio on and the windows down.


thejunipertree: (Default)

January 2011

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