I strolled in the world alone yesterday afternoon.  I needed to breathe in the Flemish air.  I needed to see the sun dance on the earth.

We had been driving earlier and I saw two vehicles turn off the road into a driveway.  “That’s a cemetery,” said Lydia.  Oh.  I’d walked by many times and thought it was someone’s fancy estate.

So when the walking drew forth my body from the couch, I had tombstones on my mind.  From Lydia’s dining room, there’s a long view over the hills to another cemetery, on the horizon.  I had walked in there before but now I couldn’t remember something essential.  Are there benches for me to sit?

I judge the humaneness of a spot by the number of places available for people to sit down – free public places, not tied to buying a beer or coffee. 

My feet suggested a reconsideration … away from the somewhat known cemetery to the brand new one.  So I walked downhill towards the wrought iron fence and the gap that beckoned me down the long driveway.

And voilà.  There I was among the gravestones and the trees.  Faces in oval photographs looked up at me.  Virtually none were smiling.  I guess being dead is a solemn affair.

My meanderings took me past two benches.  Neither had a long view, another fetish of mine.  Finally my big circle led me back to the gate again. 

Nearby was a green trailer – your basic industrial rectangle.  Must be the centre of operations for the cemetery.  Nobody was home.  Through the window, I saw a businesslike interior.  Behind was a far more interesting building – a little shed with moss growing amid the red tiles of the roof.  No windows … so no sensing of the inside soul of the place.

A bench faced the front of the office.  I sat there, uninspired.  It was time to go.

Back down the driveway, then climbing up the street, turning right at the intersection.  I had to be careful.  There were no sidewalks on my way to the other cemetery.  Cars came and went.

There were long views to be loved.  And sunshine sparkling the grass.

And now … Dead Place Number Two.  It was quite orderly for the first part, thoroughly rectangular.  And not a bum resting spot to be seen. 

Off to my right was a wide expanse of grass, bordered by deep woods.  “That’ll do nicely.”  I climbed up, I wove around, I dipped down.  Through the trees I saw a Belgian flag centred on a circular lawn.  “Hmm … didn’t the other place have a similar setup?  Must be a common feature of cemeteries in Belgium.”

I stepped around gravestones set in a grid.  I curved down a hill.  Far in the distance I glimpsed something rectangular, something green.  As I got closer, I saw that it was a trailer that looked similar to the other place.

And there was something behind – a shed with moss growing on the roof!

Both my mind and body stopped.  This is all one big cemetery – two entrances!

I stood, limp in the arms.  My mouth dropped.  My brain cells were scrambled.  The possibility of “one big one” had never come to mind.  I sat once again on the bench facing the office and marvelled at the strangeness of life.

***

I wandered down little roads some more

I saw beauty on the land some more

And then I lay on the couch some more