Boston has a lot of graveyards throughout the city. They are very small, extremley old, and well preserved. Today I took a long walk through Copp's Cemetary around the corner from my house.

My grandpa has a fascination with graveyards that he passed down to me. There is a cemetary, not unlike this one, across the street from the church we attended in my hometown. It was smaller then, say, a baseball diamond so I got to know it pretty well.

As a kid I liked to walk through the cemetary and make up stories about the people lives and how they died; one in particular being my favorite. Under a tree was a headstone for a girl who died at the age of four. No one was buried close to her. My original attraction was to the headstone itself. It was tiny, and I liked all things small cause they fit in my world. My second attraction was the idea that she knew something many adults did not; she had a secret. This struck me as sweet and I thought of her as happy, even if she was dead. Eventually she became an angel of sorts watching over me and all other kids.

As an adult the idea of angels watching over people seems childish but I sometimes wish I could regain that feeling of comfort. It's wierd, I remember being so definitive about her story and don't remember a time when I decided it was not true. It just sort of slipped away. I've thought about going back getting the name and doing some research but haven't found the time.