Tombstone

At the cemetery to visit with family gone on ahead, I saw a woman digging around a mossy tombstone. It leaned a few degrees from upright. She pushed against the stone. I walked on over, said my “Howdy” and together we set the stone aright. We shored it up, tamped the dirt, and admired our work. I asked, “Your family?” She said, “No, my neighbor’s. She broke her hip a while ago and not been here for the longest time. I’m trying to get it redd up, maybe to bring her here to see. It’d mean the world to her.”