cemetary of wind

After such strong winds all month, I knew I needed to get to the cemetery to change out the flowers on my Dad's grave. As soon as I pulled in, I noticed how many graves had sprung red and white flowers for the Christmas season, not the fall orange or last year's spring and summer bouquets. His still had the stone angel and the faux mini-street lamp but the bronze vase was in fact empty: I had fun for a pleasant hour arranging a nice adornment. The time spent there made me feel like I was near and dear to him again, even if for only a short spell.