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Magnolia Flowers From The Graveyard before/after
Audrey and I were driving along when I decided to pull into a graveyard along the river. It was the second graveyard of the day. We were greeted by a series of statues that wound through the graveyard, green with trees budding, leading to a chapel and mausoleum. It was the birdfeeder that first caught our attention. It was a bronzed ceramic statue of an old man standing on the balls of his feet to supply a birdfeeder with seed. He was bald. “I don't like that. I dont like that at all." Audrey said. Further down the path, there was a bronzed ceramic of a man, in 1950's style clothes with a saddened, almost shattered look on his face, trying to explain something to a child, who's head was hanging low, the childs doll lay on the bench placed next to the seated man. It looked like he was trying to explain something about mommy never coming back. "That's...not comforting." I said. To the left was a statue of six children of different ethnicities playing the old, old game of "Crack the Whip", where children link hands and race around, with the intent of flinging the last child along the line out to faceplant somewhere along the ground. Which, indeed what was happening to the bronzed little girl on the end of the line, long pigtails trailing behind her, ready to skid her face off on the grass, looks of terror and exhuberation on the faces of the other children. It lead up to a small grotto with an almost shinto style structure, vines laced about, starting to bloom everywhere, and in the distance, the chapel and mausoleum stood grandly, the eye helplessly following it there. We got out to check out the grotto, as I shamelessly groped Audrey in the middle of a graveyard. I cant help it, but the physical is a part of me, in ways less about sex and more about saying "hi, I missed you." We walked past gorgeous violets, low and purple, plants ready to burst out in the celebration of spring. Green, green everywhere after this long, last winter. Walked over to a crypt, the only one in view and examined it. Usually you can see into a crypt, and many have a rear window of stained glass. Not this one. It was rather separate from the rest of the graveyard and rather imposing. The legend across the top read "Northrup". I climbed the steps to the crypt and examined it, noticing where little chips had been broken off the crypt had been replaced. Must have been a powerful wealthy family at one point, or still was. Funny how the politics of economics follow us even unto death. As if to say 'Oh, dont bury me with those POOR people.' We wandered past the sculpulature. One was of a gardner, bent over the violets, tending his plants, clothes painted on this one. Its title simply 'The Gardner'. Wended our way past the sculpture of the children, titled 'Crack the Whip' and trees, the soldier tombstones standing dumbly in assemblage, the worm-choked throats of the dead curiously silent, watching us maybe, in our exultations of life, man and woman together, the seeds of new life, holding their maggoty breath for once in my presence. And we found a large, vivacious magnolia tree in full flower. The petals drifted down and formed a carpet of opalescent white at our feet. I reached up and plucked a flower for Audrey, handing it to her. "Thanks," she said, batting her eyes. I reached to her, cupping her face in my hands and kissed her passionately. She stumbled over the uneven ground, or maybe it was my kiss, and apologized for it. The grounds crew drove by, and one shouted something un-intelligeble, something along the lines of "STOP MAKING OUT IN THE GRAVEYARD!" We made our way back to my car, and drove on. When I dropped her off, her mother called her just as she was getting out. And she forgot my magnolia. I tapped her and said ,"Hey, you forgot this." "Thanks, " she said, and left. I don't know. Something I've always held to be true is that you can tell a lot about a girl in how she treats the flowers you give her. Even if they're flowers from the graveyard.
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