By Richard Eddie

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It was believed that cemeteries had brought a certain amount of charm and myths to villages, and in 1922 in Kingston, it was proven right. There were many stories and so-called legends, mainly from the seniors of Kingston who had believed that themselves. Former attorney, Kathleen Crowe, had gone from winning cases and becoming a prominent attorney, she had become weary.

     With a strange and sudden desire to leave Kingston and go elsewhere, in search of peace and quiet from all of notoriety, she found herself at the funeral of someone she did not know. Who could have passed away? Did it really matter especially if she did not know the person?! Before leading into the forest and a water stream, there was a garden that Kathleen had entered in hopes that she would not be seen by the attendees and mourners in particular. “Excuse me, ma’am, but you do not have to leave; there is nothing wrong with you being here,” said a light and friendly voice. Kathleen looked around to see where the voice came from. A little girl who looked to be about eight or nine years old coming out of a shed in front of the garden. “This cemetery and garden is owned by my family, and I come to here to help to tend the garden and provide comfort to the mourners.”

     Kathleen had suddenly felt comfortable being there and stunned that a child seemed to have dominion over such a place. “Are you here alone, I mean you are actually here…” Kathleen did not want to be intrusive nor unkind to the girl, so she carefully chose her words in her mind before she spoke.

     “Oh, I am not bothered by you asking me that. My name is Penelope Summers, and I know that you are Kathleen Crowe.” Kathleen liked Penelope, and she no longer seemed like a child to her. She noticed a bicycle leaning up against the shed; it must have belonged to Penelope. Ever since I graduated from college in English Literature, I practically live here all of the time to work and spend time in the garden, where there is lots of poetry like reading and writing. Yes, I graduated from college at the age of twelve, and I simply love it here.”

     More of the funeral attendees had arrived, and the weather went from sunshine to clouds. Kathleen was mesmerized with Penelope’s tenacity and the fact that she was running the cemetery and the garden practically alone. A piano was set up near the ruined statues that had now become one of the many legends of Kingston. Kathleen had never noticed it, nor the statues until that moment.

“The piano is mine; my parents gave it to me before they died. I love to play the violin, but being out here with my writings brings me happiness, magic, and peace. Have you ever spent time in a place like this? I do not think that you have ever played the piano or the violin, have you not? My violin is in the shed, but today is not the day to play neither instrument.”

     Kathleen Crowe could identify with that; on days when the sun did not shine, the clouds along with the gray and dark sky somehow provided its very own music. It was best to always listen to it whenever the clouds and the dark sky would take would offer to help at funerals. “You are absolutely right about that, Penelope. I love it when the sky is dark, purple, and gray; it has always been fascinating to me, and I love it!”

While the funeral was taking place, the woman and the girl had made themselves scarce by going into the garden. The garden was much larger than the cemetery, and it was preferable to be made that way. Kathleen was delighted by the entire scene, and Penelope’s personality and passion that she had shown. Penelope had moved on ahead of Kathleen into the garden with gardening tools.

     “There was no way that this young girl could keep up this gardening by herself, and she should be doing more with her life!” Kathleen said that in her mind. Who was she to make such an unjust assumption when she was exhausted from many cases?! She could have asked for forgiveness, but she felt that the garden would see to it that she would.

     “I know that you have plenty of money, Ms. Crowe, and we know and believe that money does not matter. You keep working yourself into a whirlpool of worry and simply not enjoying life and accepting that this is the best place to accept that this is your true home,” said Penelope as she left the garden to go back to the funeral. “We are gathered here to honor and remember Ms. Kathleen Crowe, a true and hardworking attorney who left us too soon.”