Normally, I take a
certain primal pride in such things as digging a hole. If not pride, satisfaction.
Not this time.
This time, digging the
hole felt like burrowing into my own heart.
I had to stop on several occasions to clear tears from my eyes. As I dug into the earth I encountered some
rocks bigger than my fist. Those, I
rolled down into the pine-smelling expanse of the hillside below me. I also encountered two opaque quartz stones. Those, I stacked atop the towel beside
me.
About two feet into the
ground I encountered river washed sand and gravel. The immediate country surrounding is famous
for this particular type of wash. This alluvium
is often rich with sapphires. I actually,
found several sapphires in a pile of the alluvium we excavated for my nearby home. Sapphires—formed by a mix of volcanic and metamorphic
events deep in the earth—are both rare and precious.
But the towel beside me
was the thing. Wrapped in the towel was
Carmel, my cat. An unopened can of cat
food, some catnip, and the two opaque stones I unearthed rested on the towel.
That girl walked down the
hill to join me as I scooped the layer of river wash from the hole. Soon after that, I stopped digging. Before I could unwrap Carmel from the towel and place him at the bottom of the hole, I broke down entirely. Crumpled at the
edge of the hole, I convulsed in messy, sobbing grief.
I didn’t want to put Carmel
in the ground.
That, the final gesture.
After a while, I gingerly
nestled Carmel at the bottom of the hole in the earth. I placed the can of cat food next to one of
his paws. I placed the opaque stones
near his head and then sprinkled catnip all around. That girl had brought with her some yellow
rose blossoms she’d snipped from a planter on the back deck of our house. We each dropped a couple of those in the
opened ground. All these things, rare
and precious.
I slowly, deliberately
pushed the sapphire wash and good dirt back into the hole from which it came.
--Mitchell
Hegman
Thanks. We are all in a better place now.
ReplyDelete