My Kind Of Tombstone

My boys have become very interested in the cycle of life lately and since I've been known to feed my kids Doritos for breakfast, it's no surprise that I've indulged them in their latest whim: cemetery hopping. We've been to 3 in the past couple of weeks, staying half an hour or so, walking through all the graves, answering their questions:

"He was 77 when he died."

"They're married and the woman isn't dead yet."

"That one is small because it's a baby."

"Sometimes the doctors can't fix them."

"Get down from there!"

"Stop climbing on that!"

"Don't touch that!"

"Put that back!"

Most of the headstones were pretty conventional but I came across one that referenced Emily Dickinson. Did you know that when I was in college, I kept a print of her in a frame on my desk? Yep. I did. We were BFF's--until I discovered Auden--but I still love those Dickinsonian dashes.

Because I could not stop for Death by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –