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Authors: Linda Joy Singleton
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themselves through non-structured play.
“Grammy, why don’t you hang out with me? We’re best friends, after all, so no one would think it was unusual. I can pick you up right now.”
“Where are you headed?”
“An old cemetery.”
“Why would you want to do something so morbid?” she asked. “It’s not like any souls linger around; they go on to better things.”
“I’m following Alyce’s plans,” I explained. “I found this list with dates and places she planned to visit. So I’ll go even though I don’t know what I’m supposed to do there.”
“Did you ask your GEM?”
“It only said Alyce was searching for something that’s lost—which isn’t much help. Sure you won’t come with me?”
“Count me not interested. I’ll stay here and help your mother. I’m beginning to think that’s my true purpose in being back here. Your mother and I didn’t always get along and before I died we had—oh, she just called for you, I mean me. Bye!”
Abruptly, Grammy clicked off.
I wondered what Grammy had started to tell me about Mom as I tucked the phone back into Monkey Bag and fished around for the car keys. Movement on the street caught my attention. An elderly couple out for a walk stared at me, probably suspicious of a junky car loitering in their upscale area.
Time to get moving.
Alyce’s car made a grinding sound when I started the engine, and I tensed, hoping her beloved Junkmobile wouldn’t die on me. The car had been dirt cheap and for a good reason. Fortunately the grinding faded to a low roar and the car seemed okay. Glancing in the side mirror at myself and seeing Alyce sitting in her rightful place gave me an odd sense of connection with my best friend, as if we were sitting together.
Was she aware of her body? Did she approve of what I was doing? Or was she too depressed to care? If only I could have helped her before things got critical. I hoped she forgave me for not helping her when she needed me.
But I’m making up for it now. I sent thoughts out to her like a prayer. Feel better and come back soon.
Checking Dustin’s map, I calculated where I wanted to go, tracing my finger along the yellow highlighted streets, then merging onto the freeway going north. But after driving a few miles, nothing looked right. Where did my turn-off go? I’d read every sign. There was no way I could have passed it.
Confused, I exited and read the map again. That’s when I noticed that the word “Liberty” was upside down. Oops. As I turned the map around and got back on the freeway heading in the right direction, I made a mental note not to mention this small “detour” to Dustin.
When I exited at Liberty, I was surprised how close the cemetery was to the freeway. I’d driven by here a zillion times without noticing that the fence surrounded old tombstones. The land was rounded, dipping slightly then rolling upward, with oak trees shading the hard dirt and weedy ground. There was no formal parking lot, only a wide graveled area off the road.
After parking the car under an oak tree, I consulted my GEM. Or should I say, attempted to consult my GEM. When I asked for information about Alyce’s reason for coming here, it only repeated that annoying to find the lost answer again.
Frustrated, I tossed the tiny book back into Monkey Bag and left the car. There was an elaborate, wrought iron double gate with the words “Liberty Cemetery” arched in a solemn welcome. I pushed it open. My feet crunched on rough grass as I entered the cemetery. I saw a pretty white gazebo and walked over to it, and found a sign containing all the names of those buried at the historical site. As I walked around, I read plaques dating back to the mid-1800s on gravestones that rose out of the ground like pale ghosts. Many were faded, made of rough-stone, but the area around them was well-kept and free of weeds.
I walked slowly from gravestone to gravestone, reading names and trying to guess what Alyce was
“Grammy, why don’t you hang out with me? We’re best friends, after all, so no one would think it was unusual. I can pick you up right now.”
“Where are you headed?”
“An old cemetery.”
“Why would you want to do something so morbid?” she asked. “It’s not like any souls linger around; they go on to better things.”
“I’m following Alyce’s plans,” I explained. “I found this list with dates and places she planned to visit. So I’ll go even though I don’t know what I’m supposed to do there.”
“Did you ask your GEM?”
“It only said Alyce was searching for something that’s lost—which isn’t much help. Sure you won’t come with me?”
“Count me not interested. I’ll stay here and help your mother. I’m beginning to think that’s my true purpose in being back here. Your mother and I didn’t always get along and before I died we had—oh, she just called for you, I mean me. Bye!”
Abruptly, Grammy clicked off.
I wondered what Grammy had started to tell me about Mom as I tucked the phone back into Monkey Bag and fished around for the car keys. Movement on the street caught my attention. An elderly couple out for a walk stared at me, probably suspicious of a junky car loitering in their upscale area.
Time to get moving.
Alyce’s car made a grinding sound when I started the engine, and I tensed, hoping her beloved Junkmobile wouldn’t die on me. The car had been dirt cheap and for a good reason. Fortunately the grinding faded to a low roar and the car seemed okay. Glancing in the side mirror at myself and seeing Alyce sitting in her rightful place gave me an odd sense of connection with my best friend, as if we were sitting together.
Was she aware of her body? Did she approve of what I was doing? Or was she too depressed to care? If only I could have helped her before things got critical. I hoped she forgave me for not helping her when she needed me.
But I’m making up for it now. I sent thoughts out to her like a prayer. Feel better and come back soon.
Checking Dustin’s map, I calculated where I wanted to go, tracing my finger along the yellow highlighted streets, then merging onto the freeway going north. But after driving a few miles, nothing looked right. Where did my turn-off go? I’d read every sign. There was no way I could have passed it.
Confused, I exited and read the map again. That’s when I noticed that the word “Liberty” was upside down. Oops. As I turned the map around and got back on the freeway heading in the right direction, I made a mental note not to mention this small “detour” to Dustin.
When I exited at Liberty, I was surprised how close the cemetery was to the freeway. I’d driven by here a zillion times without noticing that the fence surrounded old tombstones. The land was rounded, dipping slightly then rolling upward, with oak trees shading the hard dirt and weedy ground. There was no formal parking lot, only a wide graveled area off the road.
After parking the car under an oak tree, I consulted my GEM. Or should I say, attempted to consult my GEM. When I asked for information about Alyce’s reason for coming here, it only repeated that annoying to find the lost answer again.
Frustrated, I tossed the tiny book back into Monkey Bag and left the car. There was an elaborate, wrought iron double gate with the words “Liberty Cemetery” arched in a solemn welcome. I pushed it open. My feet crunched on rough grass as I entered the cemetery. I saw a pretty white gazebo and walked over to it, and found a sign containing all the names of those buried at the historical site. As I walked around, I read plaques dating back to the mid-1800s on gravestones that rose out of the ground like pale ghosts. Many were faded, made of rough-stone, but the area around them was well-kept and free of weeds.
I walked slowly from gravestone to gravestone, reading names and trying to guess what Alyce was
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