On graveyards…

I miss graveyards.

I mean the lovely ones, with hills and big oak trees and ornate above-ground shrines and stone caskets.

I love pebble paths between sections where I can read names of the centuries gone: Ann, who died in 1853.

I miss the graveyards behind the church, in the middle of the old East Coast town, mistaken for a park.

I love cities that don’t hide their dead on the edge of town: old cities, churches that understood the wholeness, completion of both baptism and burial on the same plot of land.

There are many things I miss about the East Coast (which I always miss the most this time of year…Philadelphia in the fall is perfection) but what I miss the most right now is the graveyards. Where are they in Austin? I haven’t seen them yet. I know Texas cities were late bloomers. They became themselves mostly during the 20^th century and by that time it seemed reasonable to put the graveyard on the outskirts of town in a treeless plot, and stick a chain link fence around it.

It’s just that I’m a little homesick. For Syracuse? For Philadelphia? For San Francisco? I don’t know.

Don’t mind me, Austin. Really. I’m not trying to judge your depth based on where you bury your dead. Just consider this a lament from a girl who likes gravestones, who sometimes to needs to walk around them to remind herself that she will die too.