Lives, By the Numbers
Carrie Houghton
The trees created a canopy of cover, and dimmed the world. Even in the diminished light, it wasn’t hard to notice that the cemetery was in disrepair. Tombstones were being reclaimed by the earth in shades of algae green. Forgotten monuments to forgotten lives.
Sam righted a toppled vase. “This is why I am being cremated. Who’s responsible for keeping this up once the groundskeeper dies? Death is a very long time.”
Marjory examined a piece of marble, “Clifford Jackson, born September 12, 1882. Died September 13, 1951.”
“Too much birthday cake,” said Sam. He eyed it casually, and walked forward. He pointed a finger toward a tiny stone marking the remains of a “Beloved Daughter Ruth, 1910–1916.” Neither said a word.
They walked in different directio
