I almost died in Mt. Auburn Cemetery.
My boyfriend and I were exploring the rolling grounds this weekend, admiring the trees and flowers in bloom (lilacs!) and remarking on the inordinate number of families who had taken their mothers there for Mothers Day. Because nothing says thank you like, “Hey, mom. Let’s go to the cemetery!”
Anyway we were looking for a bench where we might take a break from our stroll. It seems to me the cemetery is a place where you might like to sit awhile and ponder your life and existence, but there was nary a bench to be found. And it just seemed wrong to lounge on a grassy knoll mere inches above dead people.
Finally, by the chapel, we spotted a couple of sunny benches. Focused on the prize, I wasn’t gazing skyward or admiring the trees, which is why I was stunned when THUMP, something hit me on the head. I half-heartedly suspected my boyfriend of hitting me though that seemed unlikely and frankly, mean. Then we both spotted the suspicious branch that had used me as target practice. It was no giant limb, but it wasn’t a twig either. Ouch.
All I can say is that I’m waging a vendetta against trees now and that oak had better watch its bark.