here i am, walking familiar, hallowed grounds, turning corners tucked away behind crepe myrtle and oak, treading on softest green moss. i know this place so well, it feels like home. and one day, it will be a quiet spot of final rest. it is a beautiful tucked away place, no matter the time of year. here we were in late january when flowers are sleeping, skies were low and grey, rain threatened; but i didn't feel the need to rush. a loved one is here.
when we come out to wander around, to visit, to simply be, my father always cries. my mother grows quiet. i'm quiet, too, and walk around corners to let them be alone with their own thoughts. this is a tender place - full of spots where it is easy to hide, easy to be silent for as long as one wants.
it is not a neighborhood corner cafe; there are no cups of frothy cappuccino being served, no rattle of plates, no rustle of thick sunday papers, no stacks of unread books. it is a simple place, lovely in all seasons hot or cold, which is why i love it so.
we never stay for long. a fifteen minute stop of quiet contemplation is enough, although when weather is nice, we may bring a picnic, just because. so quiet here. so loving, and tender, and just enough of what we need when we walk the cobbled grounds. i hope you have a place where you can go, like this. xo