I went to the cemetery. As in my old days. Arrived around…6.00 PM.

Closing winter time. There were floral arrangements as I have never

seen before. Here, there and everywhere. Got to my Mama’s stone.

With Lobo and Cuco, the feral cat no more. He was family now.

My backpack. Water, a tuna sandwich. My bottle of Tequila. Limes. And

cigarettes and water. All the stone walk ways were full of Flor de

Noche and cempasúchil leaves all scattered all over. It got windy and

cold. I settle down with my notebook and book for later. Got the night

lamp behind the old tree. Looked at it. Looked as old as Methuselah.

But its limbs were still protecting and valuable. As fresh ones.

Particularly when those old stems gave me dry cover from the rain. I

love it. The moon sat above quite comfortably. The echo of all those

prior voices and laughter among all stones was still reverberating.

I lie down on my Mama’s stone to listen to them. I liked it.

Drank the first shot. Gave Lobo part of my sandwich and Cuco his tuna

can. We were all happy. There was nothing else to do but to enjoy the

evening. Look at the moon and write down my thoughts. Till the bottle

of Tequila was way down to a third of its sweet content.

Set my head on my backpack and went to sleep. Knowing I had two

good friends keeping watch on me.

EO