Our house was always a mess. Craft projects lying on the table, unfolded blankets on the couch, a dirty glass wherever it was set. Cat toys on the floor.

The cemetery is so neat, the flowers blooming, the stately stones, and peaceful with only the sounds of nature. What you longed for in life, but with a large family, it wasn’t to be.

I bring my grandchildren here to visit with you. They can’t see you and don’t understand. I tell them they are your beauty beyond the grave, your eyes, and your auburn hair. I miss you, Mom.

Written in response to Charli Mills December 19, 2023, prompt at Carrot Ranch Literary: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about beauty beyond the grave. Who is showing up for you? Will you press into a Dream of your own? Do you dare write of beauty graveside? What connections or contrasts come to mind? Is Beauty Beyond the Grave a modern/ancient myth? Go where the prompt leads!