A Flick of the Pen

As I reach the stop sign at the end of Hollow Hill Road, I see gravestones peeking at me over a granite wall. The marble monuments, darkened to a dull gray from one hundred-fifty years of exposure to the elements, their inscriptions rendered unreadable under the spread of lichen blotches.

You must drive slowly on these dirt roads, so that you don’t kick up too much dust, or worse, pebbles that will nick the paint right off your car.

Passing houses equally as old as those gravestones, it feels as though I’m driving into the past.

It used to feel emotionally unbearable to return to my hometown; to see my childhood home occupied by three generations of different families instead of my own. There’s a scene from Forrest Gump that resonated with me, where Jenny stands outside her childhood home, hurling angry rocks at it. I identified with her reaction, not because I was abused in my childhood home, but quite the opposite – it was the only place I knew true happiness. After we moved across the country and my parents split up, I never felt at home anywhere ever again. Partially, it was because of the neglect that followed the divorce. My parents, retreating into their own selfish worlds, left it up to their five children to comfort ourselves. But I also never felt as though I belonged anywhere after being prematurely separated from my origins. I’d lost my tribe, my community, my safe space.

Thirty-five years later, I’ve finally tamed the grief. I can return again and again to these rural towns of New Hampshire without the weight of loss settling on my heart.

The next time I approach the stop sign at the end of Hollow Hill Road, I pull my car off to the side. Standing by the wrought iron gates, I gaze across the cemetery. In the silence of a sunny late summer day, bearing witness to the dead forgotten by time brings me a profound sense of peace. Something about the permanence of a cemetery, the inevitability of that final homecoming, comforts me. These gravestones have stood in place for over a hundred years and will continue doing so for hundreds more.

I’m right where I’m meant to be.