The hum of conversation here was a bit quieter than you would expect. I kind of wandered around looking at stuff. Somebody gave me a hit on a joint. There were nooks and crannies in the walls that people had reworked into alters to remember this or that person. I remember opening a cigar box that somebody had nailed to the wall. Out fell a scrapbook of pictures of a woman. Judging by the technology and styles she was more or less my mother's generation.

     

The flute music was slow and thoughtful. It brought something to the place.

For some reason my eyes kept falling on memories of mom. Some resonated for me, some kind of made me shrug.

I was just kind of sobbing or something. I found myself talking about my mom with these two women that were sitting there.

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They listened nicely until I calmed down and then wandered off. I felt better for having gone through that. Not so long after that I met a guy that was planning to get married behind the temple the next day. He invited me to his wedding.