23. Confessions

Laura - Bellu Cemetery

On my way to the cemetery, I stop to purchase a flower pot and a hat. I bring a flower pot and pay the caretaker to assist with maintaining the flowers every time I visit my parents' grave. What will I do with this flower pot? Every spot is already taken; there is no place for new ones. That's what happens when you come every month for more than two decades.

I can conceal my identity quite well with this hat. Those attending the resting place of their loved ones often gaze at each other, and a few even recognize one another. It would be a mistake on my side to seem permanently youthful.

I tuck my hair beneath the hat and pull its bill down to obscure my face even more. Angel statues watch over the tombs as I stroll to the location where most of my family is buried. Outside of a book, only this