I arrived a couple hours earlier. Wanted to wash and clean my Mama’s

stone. I also got fresh flowers. Lobo is with me. Rosa had to go and be

with her Mama. She has a cold and Rosa is going to keep her company

today and this evening. I also took care of my business in the area…

and decided to stop at the store and get some tuna for Speedy, the

feral cat and limes, and a sandwich. I have some cigarettes and my

bottle of Tequila still has some Nature’s juice in it.

There were mourners arriving and leaving. Some in black some in

color. Some children couldn’t be left alone at home, they were brought

to the last peace resort. Not much to do…just rest…

Their prayers and crying startle me while cleaning and placing the

flowers. It’s all right, I’m kind of used to it. The loudness of those easily

reach the clouds. I suppose that’s the reason they cry profusely on us.

Yes, there are times when the skies participate on their mournings.

They get dark…cloudy…windy…cold…even now in Summertime.

The magic of the unknown. Embracing us all. They are almost gone.

The entire place seems to breathe deeply…the sun is going home.

I pull out my sandwich. Some water, my Tequila and limes.

Speedy hasn’t shown up yet. He could be busy taking care of those

intruding mice. I sit back and lit up a cigarette. It’s a bit warm now.

But its going to get cold as night walks further. I knock at the stone with

my knuckles letting know Mama I’m here, although she already knew.

I’m reading this book with a series of plays written by an English man.

500 years ago. He writes stuff that could be related to current events.

Yes, we all have heard those stories. The father dies…the siblings

fight…yes, those pesky wills. When the old man wants to have the

last laugh. Learning how much they each are trying to grasp the larger

part…when in life, more than one not even lifted a glass of water for

him. That kind of thing. In this so called play, it’s the story…maybe you

have already heard or read it…an uncle kills the father of a young

man…he gets home all troubled and afflicted…with a myriad of

questions in his head. I wouldn’t spoil the play…in his case is not a

matter of moneys but as he learns after a couple of pages…about

taking revenge in his hands…taking care of the murderer…

Well, what am I talking about? Oh yes, the book am reading. Never

mind. I came to the cemetery to be with my own thoughts and keep

Mama company. You’ll excuse me, going to get comfortable

lighting the petroleum lamp, and see what night brings.

Good night.

EO