A Mime in Times Square

For Meghan Ruby (Last Name Withheld) Meghan, I never knew you. I first learned of you sixteen years ago when I was visiting my mother’s grave. I looked up from the bench where I was sitting in the cemetery and noticed a woman walking toward a gravesite in the distance. She knelt down, and her hands immediately went to work. Carefully and with great concentration she removed items from a bag and arranged them around your headstone. Exactly what items I couldn’t see from my vantage point. She was alone, and the wind blew through the trees in long steady breaths, tossing her hair. There was no one else in the cemetery. Just me and the woman. It was peaceful. She continued for quite a while. It had to be done exactly right. Something must go here, something must go there. After some time she stood up, took several steps back, and admired what she had done. Although she was a young mother, perhaps in her late twenties, her face was that of a much older person--weathered from heartache. My l...