I had an impulse to go to the cemetery.
Actually, my first impulse was to go sit in a church. I wanted to look up at a stained glass window while sitting alone in a wooden pew. Maybe someone would be playing the organ. Maybe candles would be flickering.
But, no, churches are closed.
Then, I got the feeling I should go walk around the cemetery. Maybe I could find the same kind of energy–something spiritual and bigger than me.
I almost noticed that impulse and let it go. But, why not follow my impulses? It’s better than sitting at home wondering why I’m so tired and feeling sorry for myself.
I’ve been there twice: once on Halloween for my Voice and Speech class and a second time with Kelly just before I decided to dedicate my time to writing.
Sitting on a bench in a cemetery seems like a great place to write. But I didn’t bring anything to write with. I did listen to a podcast on my headphones. I wonder if my world could use more silence. I like having a podcast or a video going in the background all the time. Maybe that’s something I’ll ponder more #afterthepandemic.
As I walked, I allowed impulse to guide my feet. I almost talked myself out of the impulse to go down this road that went along in the back wall of the cemetery.
I found a rooster.