"It's a boy!" says O, "I saw da boto on the ultrasound." Oh, that's a word I just learned the other day, I say. Had to call my friend who helps me with Pidgin. "It's a Filipino word, isn't it?" he asks his maintenance side-kick. His friend lights a vape pen, and my nose perks up. "Oh smoking da funny kine!" He laughs at my saying it in Pidgin. "Pakalolo," I add. That word must be Hawaiian.
"How's destruction going?" I ask about the on-going tree and bush-cutting going on. (The guys just laugh now, S had told me, at all the tree cutting.) O points up the hill, says that the azalea trees will all be cut. But azaleas aren't trees. He meant albizia trees. Invasive yes, but I doubt the boss is interested in botany. Lilith collects her attention from O and H, and we head downhill.
At the cemetery office, we stop for water. Our friend, the woman who needs new knees, wants to die at 80, and whose brother died by suicide in 1979 at 27, is seated behind the outdoor desk. I say I have something to show her, then wend my way through my instagram photos. "Here: I added your brother's name on a card for the memorial tree at the Out of Darkness Walk." Her face softens, and she thanks me. I have a post-it with her email address on it. The photo's been sent.
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