We looked both ways and then took each other’s hands to cross the road over to the cemetery entrance. We said hello to the guard at his little stone house and followed the solid yellow line on the road to the pond by the office, as always glad for the yellow line because there is not a straight road in the place and it is so easy to get turned around. At the edge of the pond down by the ginkgo tree dropping its golden leaves we nudged at the mud with the tips of our shoes. The geese and duck waddled our way, looking for crumbs and other nibbles. This time we had none. The white swan kept to itself along the slope. We would not bother it anyway. Mean. We learned our lesson last time. Charged us. Chased us. Came right after us like a demon. But now across the pond we saw the small cave that gives this place its name—Cave Hill. Except it’s not much of a hill, or a cave, for that matter. Just a hummock with a hole in it. But here we are, waiting for her, just as we said we would be.