Nothing worried me about coming to the cemetery after five pm. I know it closes to cars at that time but pedestrians can seemingly always get in. When I entered the gates today it wasn’t even seven. But the sky was overcast with endless folds of clouds, and darkness fell early. It wasn’t the cemetery itself that made me feel uneasy; I don’t fear the dead. A young man wearing a backpack passed me on the road to the clearing, moving in the opposite direction. He looked lean and rumpled, sure of foot, perhaps walking a little too quickly. The wind rustling through the leaves muffled the sound of his retreating footsteps so that I had to peek over my shoulder to make sure he was still walking away. Then two joggers, men – they seemed okay. Two men together seems safer than one alone; jogging more trustworthy than lean walking.
By this time my body was tight with fear and I was walking faster than a comfortable pace. I saw the brown outline of an animal out of the corner of my eye and it made me jump. In my peripheral vision it looked like a small bear or a gigantic groundhog. But as I approached it raised its graceful head: only a deer, but when it saw me it bolted. The deer in the cemetery are usually so tame. Last week a group of six didn't move a muscle as I passed in my car.
I continued down the road skittishly and too quickly. I turned into the clearing.
Okay, there it is, dirt, trees, snaggled weeds, yellow grass, click-click camera, I’m outta here.
I walked out through the mouth of the clearing instead of doubling back and out the car-gate like I usually do, hoping to find a shortcut and get out quicker. It may have been a bad time to try a new shortcut, but my instincts delivered me, safely, if out of breath, onto the right path and eventually out of the cemetery.
This week I only took two pictures. Pretty good considering I didn't even stop walking. I had only planned to post one picture this week anyway. After last week I felt sick of pictures, like there were too many and they were taking over the blog, getting in the way of my thoughts and descriptions. I'm undecided about the pictures. Part of me says: Use this medium, post pictures. But another part of me says: This should be about the writing.
I've avoided writing about my fear up to this point. I've tried hard to focus my entries on the clearing, to stop the pull of my relentlessly associative mind away from the present moment. I've pushed aside memories and daydreams in favor of trying to concentrate on the landscape, to immerse myself in my surroundings. Today the clearing was just a hallway. I was too afraid to stop and look around. Seeing the picture now I feel such regret.
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