Home Is ...
I read a line in a blog this morning that caught me: "home is where your graves are."
And then I thought about how very spread out my "home" is.
My grandmother in a flat, barren cemetery outside of Independence, Kansas, buried alongside her mother, father and three of her sisters. My grandfather five miles away, in a wooded plot, buried with his people, my great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather, both with insignia on their graves marking them as civil war veterans (my great grandfather ran away at 14 to join the Union Army, where his father already served).
My infant sister, buried in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
My father, in Xenia, Ohio, a grave I've never seen. My mother, in Everett, Washington, in a hilly gravesite which had a space for my stepfather. Hope she kicked him when he landed.
Wonder where I'll end up? Hopefully ashes spread in the places I've lived and loved. Ann Arbor and Seattle. Maybe a few teaspoons in Kansas.