Passing A Graveyard

The other day I was driving my 14 year old and ten year old, when we saw a cemetery ahead. Clara, my teen, said, “Years ago, my friend told me that when you pass a graveyard you should hold your breath so that the spirits don’t enter your body through your mouth.”

Immediately, my ten year old – Julie – opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out. She said, “I want the spirits to come into my body. They can feel free to use it to live in the world for the day.”

“No!” exclaimed Clara. “They might be evil spirits!”

“Okay – no evil spirits allowed,” proclaimed Julie. “All the others are welcome.”

As we passed the graveyard, one daughter tightly closed lips, the other with her mouth opened wide making  strange lip smacking noises designed to entice spirits, I thought, “My life is weird.”

Had I been alone, I would have passed the cemetery without giving it a thought. If I did have a thought, it might have been about mortality, my own or my loved ones. Or perhaps, I would have thought about people I knew who had passed away.

But, in this moment, my kids (as they often do) introduced me to the fantastical, silly, magical, scary and interesting saga that a seemingly generic moment offers. In that moment, there was disagreement, laughter, fear, and openness. And, there was a story – There were spirits, good ones, evil ones and ones who longed to live life again.

That’s the way my kids live their life – each moment is filled with a story. Going upstairs to the bathroom alone might mean avoiding a monster or two. Opening the back door and looking into the trees might unveil a fairy or pixie – or at least a deer or a raccoon.

Life is to be lived. Each moment can be filled with wonder and excitement. I have the passing of a graveyard to thank for that reminder.

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