The Fence

The sign read, “No visitors past 7pm, please be respectful of this. Thank you.” It’s pristine state was taunting me, daring me to disobey.

“But.. It's already 8:00!” I cried out. I kicked my feet on the ground, acting like the stubborn kid I was. In doing so, I scuffed my favorite pair of shoes; my purple skechers. 

“No! Nonono!” I began to cry, big fat tears streaming down my face. I ran my small, pudgy hands through my brown hair as I threw a fit of sorts. I shook with anger and sorrow as I sat my backside down on the concrete with a hard thump. I dug my palms into my eyes as if I could push back the tears that were too late to stop. I stared into the chain link fence blocking me from my mom on the other side. There she lay, peaceful in her own private room. She even got to be underground where it was safe and blissfully quiet. There she lay, in a cemetery. 

Oh how I wish I could’ve gone and talked to her that day, it had been such an eventful one! But I was small and I was young and didn’t dare break a rule as simple as the one mocking me; telling me it was too late and couldn’t come in. I was so young.

“No visitors past 7pm, please be respectful of this. Thank you.” The sign read. It was beginning to rust and turn a shimmering bronze. The red “r” in respectful had begun to chip away. I took a glance at the sign and popped my earbuds in as I hopped the fence with ease. It was past 7, it always was. I may be young but I had to work to support myself and my brother. My long legs moved with an even pace as I walked to the gray brick marking my mothers grave. I removed the wilting flowers and replaced them with brightly colored roses, her favorite. I sat down and stared at the gray slab. 

Here lies Martha Conen, 1998, a loving mother and perseverer like no other.

1998. A day I remembered like no other, with vivid detail at every corner. Sometimes I wished I didn’t remember it so well; that it was just a distant and hazy memory. I wish I could erase the eerie silence of that cold morning. I wish to forget how I went to wake up my sleeping mother.. except she wasn’t sleeping. She wouldn’t wake up, for if she had then she wouldn’t be lying in a coffin right now, would she? But she never woke up. Undetected heart disease, the doctor said. It just stopped beating. That was something I never understood. How does a heart so full of life, so full of love just.. stop?

“I passed my Spanish exam,” I said quietly. “Weird being a high schooler now you know? Feels like I was in fourth grade just yesterday, playing cards with you.” A lump began to form in my throat and I could do nothing to push it away. My voice cracked as I told her, “I lov-e you.” A single tear turned into a waterfall as I sat shaking in sadness.

I didn’t bother reading the sign as I quickly leapt over the fence. I hardly had to jump anymore. Autumn colors painted the landscape as I sat by my mothers grave. I took out my earbuds and cut to the chase.

“Remember that one kid, his name was Jon?” I said. “I told you about him a year ago, Language arts class? Of course you remember, you always do.” A sad smile flitted across my features as I began to tell her about my new boyfriend Jon, and the latest and greatest in the life of Maia Conen.

“I’ll be a senior next year, gosh,” I shook my head. “I’ll be headed off to college, I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet though. Got any ideas?” I listened thoughtfully to her silent response and continued onto a more sensitive subject. “It’s been hard without you. You’d think I’d have stopped visiting you by now. No no, I could never abandon you like that. And while it’s been hard, Cal has been doing a good job taking care of me. He’s a good brother.” I sighed as I got up, this visit had been shorter than the rest. I hope she doesn’t mind, I thought to myself. “See you soon mom, love you.”

I didn’t have to jump at all anymore. Had the fence always been that small? My graduation robe was blown back by the approaching summer wind and I had to hang onto my cap so it wouldn’t fly away.

“Here we are,” I said to the stone. “I’ve graduated! I.. well.. I’m not going to college just yet. I’ve been doing a lot of writing and it’s been going well for me. Hope that’s ok. But don’t worry, I’m still living here for now.”

I frowned at the thought of one day leaving. I knew it was inevitable; I couldn’t stay in this small town forever. But I couldn’t escape the sad feeling that clutched me every time I thought about moving. 

“I can’t stay long, I have an after party to get too. But I love you. Never forget it,” I said softly.

I stood at the entrance to the cemetery, admiring the fence. The sign was no longer there. Last I saw it was in my trash can. Good riddance. The winter's wind clawed at me as I stepped over the fence and into the cemetery. I took my time to walk through the decrepit path. It looked terrible, with mud and dried leaves embedded into its muck. But I loved it so much. My feet fell into a practiced rhythm as I walked the path I had strolled through so often. Each step pulled me back to an old memory, filled with sadness and the warm kind of joy you can never seem to shake. 

Falling off my bike as I learned to ride without training wheels. She held me in her arms as she kissed away the pain. 

Baking sugar cookies by the warm glow of the Christmas tree as Charlie Brown played in the background.

The memories were sad, now that she was gone. Or at least they had been, but I had made up my mind that I would remember them with joy. I would remember the joy I had in the moment.

Finally, I was there. I didn’t let myself cry at the site of my mothers tomb, for this was not meant to be a moment of sorrow.

“I can’t stay anymore mom.” I said, unable to hide the sadness etched into my tone. “Your little girl has grown too big for this small town. I’m eager mom. I’m itching to explore; I hope you will forgive me.” I bowed my head, but instead of crying, I gave a warm smile. 

“I must make new memories, new friends. And I know you know that I will never, ever forget you.” I said with passion. I made sure she heard me as I spoke my last words to her. “I love you. Always have.”