The Gate

Raindrops filled the air saturating everything they touched. The weatherman was right she mused as she stood looking out the kitchen window. Her eyes followed the boundaries of her yard, crossed the road that lead to her street, and came to rest on the gate of the cemetery located directly across from her house. The gate had been left open.

Her visitors were sometimes uneasy with the cemetery being so close to the house, just across the street, and thought of it as a morbid view. But the cemetery gave her a sense of nostalgia with its intimate setting full of simple headstones chosen by loved ones not to impress future visitors but to pay final respects to the person whose name is engraved in the stone. She knew she was not alone in her respect for this place for those that passed through the cemetery gate were respectful during their visits, leaving flowers, and always securing the gate when leaving.

But today, the gate had been left open. She stared at the gate as if frozen to the window by her thoughts of disdain towards this careless person. But then it was as if the raindrops had found a way through the glass in the window and were saturating her face and as her eyes relinquished their hold on the gate, she let go a little laugh. She turned to continue the days chores thinking, how much easier it is to continue on your journey when the gate is left open.