Dia de los Muertos.

On Dia de los Muertos,

Amy and Emily and I

got Mexican food

and Jarritos

and ate in the cemetery.

We spread out our blanket near a tree

next to Henrick and Bodel Jensen.

And as we sat down,

I felt instinctively

that the Jensens were glad

that we had come to visit them.

It was chilly.

We ate and talked

and took pictures.

Piña, Toronja, y Limón

I read a poem out loud.

And then I looked around

and thought,

When you die,

they'll put your name

and some dates

on a stone.

And somehow

that feels like a fitting reward

for having lived a life.

.

.

.

Once I saw mountains angry,

And ranged in battle-front.

Against them stood a little man;

Aye, he was no bigger than my finger.

I laughed, and spoke to one near me,

"Will he prevail?"

"Surely," replied the other;

"His grandfathers beat them many times."

Then did I see much virtue in grandfathers--

At least, for the little man

Who stood against the mountains.
Stephen Crane