Graveyard Moment
But tonight I did not hesitate, nor did I concern myself with the paths these iron rails presented. My gaze was fixed, instead, upon the graveyard that lies beyond the thin strip of forest that boarders the built-up gravel of the rails. The graveyard was not my final destination tonight - it so rarely is - but rather the apartment (fondly dubbed ‘Wittenberg’) of my friends, Frances and Brenda, that lay yet further off beyond the parking lots and tall corporate buildings that lay between campus and Grad. Though my thoughts would flit onward towards my final destination, it was impossible not to be caught up in the perception of this cold, crisp moment. Every sense and sensibility of my body and mind was awakened to my environment, leaving little room for thoughts of my regular schedule of concerns.
Indeed, the sight of the graveyard tonight caught my breath and held me transfixed. I stood, flickering candle in hand, and soaked in the beauty of the serene granite headstones, the monuments, the low bushes, the trees, so stark and black, and the pristine white of the snow. But above all else, I stood in awe of the vastness of the moon, whose full, brilliant beams illuminated the landscape like daylight and who drew crisp black silhouettes upon the ground of everything that stood in its way. My candle’s now comparatively pale gleam seemed presumptuous, and I did not move to re-light it when the wind finally got the better of its courage. My hands, face, and legs were cold.
I thrive on these moments. Always, I am seeking out environments and aesthetics that appeal to my love of the romantic, the gothic, the picturesque. It was in hopes of just such a moment that I had brought along the candle. And there I stood like the heroine in a book or a movie, poised at the center of scene both chilling and enthralling. Alone; and yet without fear or hesitance, excepting an acute awareness of the infinite sky stretching over me. I felt again a wish to know more about the stars, for tonight they lay fully exposed, waiting to be re-discovered and identified. Remembering to listen, my ear caught the tripping of a stream, running in defiance of the bitter winter’s cold, and the vague passing of traffic somewhere off on South St.
The effect of the moment was as much as I had hoped. I was removed, distant from all meaning aside from that which I found in the space, the light, and the cold. It was quite simple to forget that just an hour or so earlier I had been sitting with Jonathan, listening to him explain that we weren’t in a relationship anymore. There wasn’t much to forget - or remember - really. It was a change in title only at this point. I had felt single all week and knew that it was only a matter of time before we had to align name with fact. I hadn’t even been sure that we were still dating for the past week. Our talk had seemed ambiguous and it was this sense of limbo that had frustrated me the most. It was good to be clear. To follow the example of the night.
Now, I was free to be independent again without my thoughts being tied down to anyone in particular but myself. Venturing out into the night with a purpose all my own, on a whim, I delighted in knowing that I could look after myself. Again, I felt myself to be the strong heroine of this moment, gathering her wrappings about her and striding on again into the night. Path clear, purpose unquestioned, immune to frightening flights of imagination. Rather, aware at every moment of her surroundings and trusting herself to be fully capable to meet all obstacles. She feels the weight of her knife in her pocket.
I was also walking to keep my legs warm. There was a strange numbness to the thighs that brought with it a sense of power and immunity. I knew that if I kept moving they would never get cold enough for any concern, but now they were just cold enough to feel thick and foreign. I held my scarf up to my face, lending shelter from the wind and chill. The thick glass of the candle was cold in my hand, even through my glove, but I was not sorry I had brought it. It served as a token to the moment, something that I might carry with me out of this starry picture and into the warmth of Wittenberg, where I knew the inhabitants would understand the nature of my moment at the mere sight of it.
I would mention to Frances about Jonathan. It seemed right to tell someone. She wouldn’t be able to relate entirely, but she would listen and care as much as she could. As much as I needed, at least, which wasn’t much. Just putting it into words out loud to seal the deal, if you will. There just wasn’t much to say because neither of us - neither Jonathan nor I - had been very invested in the thought of a future together. We hadn’t had the chance to be. Of the six or so weeks we were dating, about five of them had been spent eight hundred miles apart. Holding hands was as far as we’d gotten, and even that had only been in private. I had known it was falling apart; we had talked about why it couldn’t go forward now, but the frustration of having to let go of the hope for something more was still undeniably present. I was disappointed.
Mostly, I just wished that his life wasn’t so burdened by what went on during his break. For his sake. It had been understandably painful, and it was only normal for him to need this time of solitude and detachment from humanity, but I knew that it meant that he was still that far from being able to move on from his past, to embrace the now and the future. But that was his concern, I guess. He wasn’t unhappy.
I emerged from the graveyard into the floodlights and pavement of the parking lots, leaving behind the moment, but taking the serenity with me. It was harder to ignore the cold out here in the harshness of the artificial light and the smooth black asphalt. I forced my thoughts to leave the graveyard and to focus instead upon the way before me. My pace was as quick and sure as ever, anticipating the warmth and company. It would be good to be inside.
Indeed, the sight of the graveyard tonight caught my breath and held me transfixed. I stood, flickering candle in hand, and soaked in the beauty of the serene granite headstones, the monuments, the low bushes, the trees, so stark and black, and the pristine white of the snow. But above all else, I stood in awe of the vastness of the moon, whose full, brilliant beams illuminated the landscape like daylight and who drew crisp black silhouettes upon the ground of everything that stood in its way. My candle’s now comparatively pale gleam seemed presumptuous, and I did not move to re-light it when the wind finally got the better of its courage. My hands, face, and legs were cold.
I thrive on these moments. Always, I am seeking out environments and aesthetics that appeal to my love of the romantic, the gothic, the picturesque. It was in hopes of just such a moment that I had brought along the candle. And there I stood like the heroine in a book or a movie, poised at the center of scene both chilling and enthralling. Alone; and yet without fear or hesitance, excepting an acute awareness of the infinite sky stretching over me. I felt again a wish to know more about the stars, for tonight they lay fully exposed, waiting to be re-discovered and identified. Remembering to listen, my ear caught the tripping of a stream, running in defiance of the bitter winter’s cold, and the vague passing of traffic somewhere off on South St.
The effect of the moment was as much as I had hoped. I was removed, distant from all meaning aside from that which I found in the space, the light, and the cold. It was quite simple to forget that just an hour or so earlier I had been sitting with Jonathan, listening to him explain that we weren’t in a relationship anymore. There wasn’t much to forget - or remember - really. It was a change in title only at this point. I had felt single all week and knew that it was only a matter of time before we had to align name with fact. I hadn’t even been sure that we were still dating for the past week. Our talk had seemed ambiguous and it was this sense of limbo that had frustrated me the most. It was good to be clear. To follow the example of the night.
Now, I was free to be independent again without my thoughts being tied down to anyone in particular but myself. Venturing out into the night with a purpose all my own, on a whim, I delighted in knowing that I could look after myself. Again, I felt myself to be the strong heroine of this moment, gathering her wrappings about her and striding on again into the night. Path clear, purpose unquestioned, immune to frightening flights of imagination. Rather, aware at every moment of her surroundings and trusting herself to be fully capable to meet all obstacles. She feels the weight of her knife in her pocket.
I was also walking to keep my legs warm. There was a strange numbness to the thighs that brought with it a sense of power and immunity. I knew that if I kept moving they would never get cold enough for any concern, but now they were just cold enough to feel thick and foreign. I held my scarf up to my face, lending shelter from the wind and chill. The thick glass of the candle was cold in my hand, even through my glove, but I was not sorry I had brought it. It served as a token to the moment, something that I might carry with me out of this starry picture and into the warmth of Wittenberg, where I knew the inhabitants would understand the nature of my moment at the mere sight of it.
I would mention to Frances about Jonathan. It seemed right to tell someone. She wouldn’t be able to relate entirely, but she would listen and care as much as she could. As much as I needed, at least, which wasn’t much. Just putting it into words out loud to seal the deal, if you will. There just wasn’t much to say because neither of us - neither Jonathan nor I - had been very invested in the thought of a future together. We hadn’t had the chance to be. Of the six or so weeks we were dating, about five of them had been spent eight hundred miles apart. Holding hands was as far as we’d gotten, and even that had only been in private. I had known it was falling apart; we had talked about why it couldn’t go forward now, but the frustration of having to let go of the hope for something more was still undeniably present. I was disappointed.
Mostly, I just wished that his life wasn’t so burdened by what went on during his break. For his sake. It had been understandably painful, and it was only normal for him to need this time of solitude and detachment from humanity, but I knew that it meant that he was still that far from being able to move on from his past, to embrace the now and the future. But that was his concern, I guess. He wasn’t unhappy.
I emerged from the graveyard into the floodlights and pavement of the parking lots, leaving behind the moment, but taking the serenity with me. It was harder to ignore the cold out here in the harshness of the artificial light and the smooth black asphalt. I forced my thoughts to leave the graveyard and to focus instead upon the way before me. My pace was as quick and sure as ever, anticipating the warmth and company. It would be good to be inside.