linebyline: Underneath the broken (old)
This is too old to be posted to linebyline (once the new word is posted you can't post to the old one), but I thought I'd do it anyway just to write.
"Hi, Mom."
The young woman, clad in black jeans, heavy boots, and a black leather jacket over a red hooded sweatshirt, squatted on the shaggy grass before the granite headstone. The young woman laid a long-stemmed rose on the grass, and then brushed the name on the headstone with gloved fingers.
"I know. It's been a while. I've been meaning to get out here, but I've been really busy." She cast a glance over her shoulder at the glossy black Trans Am that sat parked at the end of the row. "I, uh...I got a new job." The girl smiled and turned back to face the headstone. "It meant relocating, but it pays really well. I love the people I work with, and it's really important work. I feel like I'm making a difference in people's lives."
The young woman paused for a moment, and the sounds of nature filtered in: The caw of a crow; the sharp twitter of blackbirds; wind whistling in the pine trees overhead. I'm glad we decided to bury Mom here, she thought, gazing out over the sea of stone markers and manicured grass. It's so peaceful.
She stood and paced out the length of the plot. Over the last six years, the grass over the grave had grown out until it was impossible to tell where the backhoe had bitten into the earth. To this day, the smell of newly cut grass and moist earth still brought back the memory of how she stood at the grave after the memorial service, knowing that her mother's body lay cold and silent in the bronze casket underneath the broken sod.
A drop of rain pattered against the stone. The young woman squinted up at the granite-colored sky. "Well, I know you'd get mad at me for standing out here in the rain, so I'm gonna go." She kissed her gloved fingertips and laid them against the name chiseled into the stone. "I love you, Mom. I miss you."
The young woman picked her way among the headstones, then crossed to the paved path and got into the Trans Am. The car started with a throaty rumble of engine and slowly cruised out of the small cemetary, leaving the departed to their slumber.
"Hi, Mom."
The young woman, clad in black jeans, heavy boots, and a black leather jacket over a red hooded sweatshirt, squatted on the shaggy grass before the granite headstone. The young woman laid a long-stemmed rose on the grass, and then brushed the name on the headstone with gloved fingers.
"I know. It's been a while. I've been meaning to get out here, but I've been really busy." She cast a glance over her shoulder at the glossy black Trans Am that sat parked at the end of the row. "I, uh...I got a new job." The girl smiled and turned back to face the headstone. "It meant relocating, but it pays really well. I love the people I work with, and it's really important work. I feel like I'm making a difference in people's lives."
The young woman paused for a moment, and the sounds of nature filtered in: The caw of a crow; the sharp twitter of blackbirds; wind whistling in the pine trees overhead. I'm glad we decided to bury Mom here, she thought, gazing out over the sea of stone markers and manicured grass. It's so peaceful.
She stood and paced out the length of the plot. Over the last six years, the grass over the grave had grown out until it was impossible to tell where the backhoe had bitten into the earth. To this day, the smell of newly cut grass and moist earth still brought back the memory of how she stood at the grave after the memorial service, knowing that her mother's body lay cold and silent in the bronze casket underneath the broken sod.
A drop of rain pattered against the stone. The young woman squinted up at the granite-colored sky. "Well, I know you'd get mad at me for standing out here in the rain, so I'm gonna go." She kissed her gloved fingertips and laid them against the name chiseled into the stone. "I love you, Mom. I miss you."
The young woman picked her way among the headstones, then crossed to the paved path and got into the Trans Am. The car started with a throaty rumble of engine and slowly cruised out of the small cemetary, leaving the departed to their slumber.