Fresh Air

"So Hansel and Gretel pushed the old woman into the oven and ran out of the cottage as quickly as they could. They ran down the path and through the woods without ever looking back at the house or the horror inside. Hansel held Gretels hand tightly as they stumbled. They both knew that for the rest of their lives they only had each other." She stopped talking and I let the story hang in the crisp air around me, staring at the twin stones in front of me. I read the words to myself again. "Hansel, brother. Gretel, sister."

Not even a date. Only two crumbling stones sticking sideways out of the ground in that tiny little cemetary in the middle of nowhere. I sighed loudly and pulled my blanket tighter around my arms, which was her cue that I was ready to go. She kicked the break gently with her foot and eased my wheelchair back onto the gravel path. As we made our way back to the van, I spotted another old stone with just a name and nothing more. Letting the blanket drop from around my hand, I pointed to the stone. "Next time tell me a story about that one."