I took a walk this afternoon, to appreciate the beautiful weather and the fact that Thanksgiving meant I could enjoy it by doing more than staring out my office window.

Of course, part of the perils of living in the suburbs is that there aren’t too many natural preserves within walking distance. There are plenty of convenient shopping areas, yes, and even a hospital that’s not too far away. If I were in desperate need of milk or a bank machine, or if I had been knifed while on the way from the bank machine to the Reid’s Dairy, then I really wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.

If I’m looking for an explosion of fall color to set off my senses, though, I’m more or less out of luck. The only exception within about two kilometers of my home came at one of two local cemeteries, a place that is quiet despite the major highway that roars right past its front gates. I used to ride my bike over there when I was much younger, partially because I was one of those weird kids who thought it was cool to go to the cemetary, but mostly because it was the closest thing to visible history around me.

Seriously, it was unmatched. Where else can you go and lay your hands on things that are older than anything else you can imagine? Is there anything more impossible to the mind of an eleven year-old than a one hundred and fifty year-old tombstone sitting right in front of him? With the name of an actual person who lived nearby? And who had children, buried right next to them? One of whom was killed in the Great War, maybe? And another who died at the age of seven? Could that be right?

I think I acquired both my sense of history and my utter dread of anonymity in that place, looking at those stones that were well-tended, and those others that had been almost completely grown over by flowers and tall grass. I always felt like an intruder there, as if I really had no business looking over the details of those people and the efforts they’d made to be remembered. And when I left, it was always with a mixed sense of wonder and relief — wonder that there was such a history stored up in those quiet cemeteries, and relief that I had no part of it. No siblings lost in a Great War, nobody dying at the age of seven, or eighty-seven, nobody who was gone but never forgotten, beloved and dearly missed, in loving memory.

As I stood there today, warm in the sun and fiddling with the dials on my Canon, all of that slowly came back to me. I sat on a tree stump next to one of the family graves of the Mustard family, resting under a maple tree, and I took this:

And then I left, more relieved than I’d ever been, reminded again of how good I’ve got it. I ate turkey with my family tonight, and spent the rest of the evening playing midway games and House of the Dead III with Sham and my friends. I should probably feel a bit strange for taking such encouragement from such a sad and quiet place, but I can’t help it.

My apologies to the Mustards, but I can see the leaves changing and smell the air cooling off, and still feel happy for everything I have. When I was eleven, I looked around at all the people after their lives were over and felt glad that I’d seen none of the things that they had; now, at twenty-six, all I can feel is that I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I can walk around town on my day off, I can cheer for the Red Sox, I can stay up way too late before I have to get up for work, I can write on the internet. I forget too often that I’m lucky, and I’m thankful for every inch of it.

And now, if you’re interested in being a weirdo like me, I offer this special Thanksgiving wallpaper. Impress your family! Disturb your co-workers! Have conversations like this:

Co-Worker: Wow, that’s a really nice wallpaper. You know, I have a maple tree just like that one in my yar– hey, is that a tombstone?
You: Yep.
Co-Worker: I, yeah. I only asked because it seemed really interesting that you would– I mean, that’s a grave, right? Isn’t that sort of grim?
You: I dunno. I guess. It’s not like I know the guy.
Co-Worker: Uh-huh. Because if you did, then that’d be really… Anyway, I’d better go.
You: Happy Thanksgiving!

Depending on your office environment, it might even be worth keeping up until Hallowe’en! Just right-click and Save Target As… on the links below to download the appropriate choice.

Thanksgiving Wallpaper 1280×768
Thanksgiving Wallpaper 1024×768
Thanksgiving 800×600

Happy Thanksgiving from M.e. and the Mustards.