Owning My Own Land

By my 25th birthday I owned a plot of land. It’s in a quiet area although it’s fairly built up as residents keep appearing. It’s set just off of a main road but the noise from the traffic doesn’t really carry. There’s a Tesco about 3 minutes away and a new McDonalds has recently opened near the bowling alley. The actual plot is surrounded by greenery and all types of stone… but mostly granite; some marble. To reach my plot, you need to walk past so many others; mine is tucked away near the back. It won’t be long and there won’t be any space left.

They don’t allow cars, but it’s a nice peaceful walk. The whole area is kept tidy by the local council, but there’s never really any rubbish about. Most people just leave flowers. There’s a certain ambience to the area, it’s all very hushed. It’s quite religious, but there’s a wonderful diversity of people. Of course, people of all ages are here. Elderly next to children, young men next to baby girls. A quick scan of the grounds and you can see plenty of Christian crosses and Stars of David.

There are photographs dotted around and usually always a balloon lending a birthday atmosphere. One of my direct neighbours has left their plot to lie derelict and broken. All that adorns their land is a small wooden cross with a dirty brass plaque. Old, plastic flowers stay in place and are faded by the sun and the rain.

Christmas is always a lovely time. Many plots are decorated with wreathes or tiny Christmas trees with red and gold baubles. Sadly the visits tend to drop off again after Boxing day and the council men usually throw out the festive decorations because the families don’t return for weeks.

It’s not much of a plot but it’s mine. The deed to it sits in a drawer inside a sealed envelope. Only one resident on the plot so far, thankfully. Room for two more, apparently.

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