A Broken Headstone
Rosewood Cemetery, Elizabeth, NC, 2010
I am not really here, of course, although sometimes I feel the need to visit. This peacefully tranquil area is serenely beautiful. The gentle rolling grounds are filled with majestic flowering trees, and spectacular rosebushes in rich, luscious colors creating the most heavenly perfume. The well-tended grounds are dotted with many other fragrant flowers and bushes that wind along the road and cascade down the velvety hills. The vibrant colors are a delight, a feast for the eyes and a bouquet for the nose. Some of the trees are older than me. They reach upward like pillars supporting the heavens and then thrust downward to strengthen the earth. They have heard and seen so many events in their long life that for those that can hear, they have fantastic stories to tell. I should know. I have heard them.
There are many interesting stories buried in these grounds. Most may soon be forgotten if they are not forgotten already, like my own story for instance. As I look about, I do not think of those things. I see the beauty in life. When the cherry trees are in bloom, the whole area seems to be reborn, buzzing with the fresh opening of a brand-new spring. Songs from numerous types of birds can be heard from all over the grounds, creating a symphony of pure joy in life. Then the hummingbirds arrive and flit from one flower to another. I love their high-pitched twitter. They tease and chase each other around endlessly. They are really my beloved fairies in disguise! I remember the tricks and the games they play. I used to play them too. As I gaze across the grounds again, I drink in the vibrant, majestic colors of the azaleas, the dogwoods, and the luscious cherry trees. They almost take my breath away! Okay, they do not really take my breath away. They cannot. Because, I am actually beyond breathing.
Excerpt From Broken Stone: A Real Fairy’s Tale – Chapter One