Some of my very dear friends know that I am rather fond of cemetaries. In fact, at least one of you has trapsed with me in the sweltering heat of New Orleans to read a few headstones.
My current residence is less than 150 meters from the town cimetiere, and this evening after my run, I decided to go exploring. The ground surrounding the cemetary is quite peaceful with an overhang of trees just outside the parking area. As one enters, water is available to use for sustaining the plants that one might leave. Along the right wall of the entry is an area reserved for babies, which I found to be quite sad. The oldest headstone that I could find was dated for 1833, but there were a number of stones that were a challenge to decifer. There was a memorial to those who had died in World War I, as well as a series of headstones designated with white crosses, but no names. As I was alone, the only sound to be heard was the crunch of small gravels under my feet. One cultural difference is the practice of leaving small plaques as memorials; some of them are entitled "Souvenir."
It is quite beautiful to read the inscriptions that people leave for their loved ones. If you ever get the chance to take a quiet walk through a cemetary, I highly recommend it.
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