There is a tiny cemetery from the late 1800s right on the edge of my family's land. It was overgrown with trees and plants and was a general forested-type area until recently when my grandpa cleaned it up. I was home for the Fourth and walked out there around sunset to see. To my understanding, there are only six graves, and one of those is unmarked. There are brothers (eight and ten) who died within a month of each other. There is a 29 year old. There is a two month old. And I don't remember the other two, but I still wonder about them. I wonder about them all.
On the walk back, it was a proper sunset, indeed.
It's funny, because thinking about them makes me sad, but in a sort of pleasant way. I was contemplating that, trying to figure it out, and the very next day, I heard this conversation on TV. These two characters are exploring a long-abandoned mansion.
KATHY: What did you come here for anyway?
SALLY: I love old things. They make me feel sad.
KATHY: What's good about sad?
SALLY: It's happy for deep people.
I laughed. I guess I'm just deep is all.