Todestrieb
The car comes to a stop on the narrow drive.
"I won't be long," you say.
"Take your time," answers the voice from the driver's seat.
The first snow of the season has left a little dusting of white that brings all the many colors of the earth into unity. You find the headstone almost immediately.
"Hi mom," you whisper, smiling at the shiny gray face with its little snow hat. You cross yourself slowly, thinking of how she used to take you sledding on the Commons just after the first snowfall.
"You know, Mom, I have cried a lot of tears in the past few weeks, but I don't think a single one of them has been for you. Mommy, I miss you so much. I am alone in the world now, but I feel strong. Somehow I know that I'm doing the right thing. I don't think I'll be back to see you for a long time. I'm leaving Boston and all of the past behind me. I'm starting a new life in a new place." Your voice fails you.
You look around at the cemetery lying serene and empty. Only the faint smell of exhaust from the car behind you serves as a reminder that you are not alone. The trees stand here and there with the wind blowing softly through their needles. Little stirrings in the bushes tell you about the winter animals anxious to reclaim their haven.
The last of your tears melts away into the vast whiteness.
"Goodbye, Mom," you say, beginning to turn your heel in the snow. "I love you."
"I won't be long," you say.
"Take your time," answers the voice from the driver's seat.
The first snow of the season has left a little dusting of white that brings all the many colors of the earth into unity. You find the headstone almost immediately.
"Hi mom," you whisper, smiling at the shiny gray face with its little snow hat. You cross yourself slowly, thinking of how she used to take you sledding on the Commons just after the first snowfall.
"You know, Mom, I have cried a lot of tears in the past few weeks, but I don't think a single one of them has been for you. Mommy, I miss you so much. I am alone in the world now, but I feel strong. Somehow I know that I'm doing the right thing. I don't think I'll be back to see you for a long time. I'm leaving Boston and all of the past behind me. I'm starting a new life in a new place." Your voice fails you.
You look around at the cemetery lying serene and empty. Only the faint smell of exhaust from the car behind you serves as a reminder that you are not alone. The trees stand here and there with the wind blowing softly through their needles. Little stirrings in the bushes tell you about the winter animals anxious to reclaim their haven.
The last of your tears melts away into the vast whiteness.
"Goodbye, Mom," you say, beginning to turn your heel in the snow. "I love you."
