I loved the cemetery which was on our way home. We would call into a shop to phone Mum to say we were ready to come home, usually after dancing or basketball practise. Mum would always say, "start walking" BUT, we knew that meant walking almost all the way home. And, often I was too slow for my bigger sister, and she'd walk on ahead. Later, when we got bikes, she'd bike on ahead also! So, I'd call into the cemetery. It was like story-time to me. I knew all the families there, all the young children, including my own brother, my grandparents, and lots of family friends. I'd go from one to the next saying hello, and talking to them. Eventually I'd go on home quite happily, only to be met with a good spanking from my frustrated mother. "What kind of a strange girl are you to spend time like that in the cemetery!" Ah well, truly, even our own parents often dont understand how our heads work, and where we find serenity.
Marie: And yet another story!
It seems to be a trait of the elderly to tell stories and often repeat the same stories. As our family has a major Reunion in February 2015 I will tell a family story each day and NOT repeat it for 100 days. I will use christian names from our earlier generations as pseudonyms.