Getting lost.
I was driving down to Bouchon last night, a fancy french restaurant, when I got lost and ended up going the wrong way. If you know how I travel, I actually like getting lost because I stumble upon interesting things off the beaten path. Well, I ended up at the Yountville cemetary and I had to stop! For some reason, I am drawn to older cemetaries. There is a lot of history behind the people who lived there and I like to read their names, find out when they died.
I got out of my car and brought my camera. It's a little plot of land, empty with maybe a few birds swooping in and out. When I entered the cemetary I immediately knew that I was drawn here, but I didn't know why. With hands reached out, palms facing up, I let the earth guide me to what it wanted me to see. I felt a tug on my right hand and knew I had to turn right. I walked in that general direction, not knowing exactly where I had to go so I kept asking "Where?"As I walked through the various graves, I started to feel sensations on my feet. The best way to describe it is when someone puts their hand on your foot and you feet the warmth of their hand. That's what it felt like. Then I felt it on my ankle, up my calf. I instinctively knew that the spirits were reaching out to me. I continued walking and felt the spirits holding my hands. Three fingers on my right hand started to curl, like a child had grabbed my hand but wasn't big enough to wrap it around my palm. I acknowledged it. I soon walked to a grave that had a faded yellow wrought iron fence around it. I stood there for a moment and allow myself to feel what they were trying to tell me. You won't believe it, but I felt an immense sense of sadness and loss and started to cry. Yep, me crying at a cemetary - Good Lord! I actually forgot to read the grave marker, so I turned back and read it.
A little girl died when she was 7 years old. Her brother died 4 days later, he was 5 years old. How heart breaking is that?
The wind was starting to blow and I wanted to head back to the car, plus I didn't want anyone to see me crying at a gravesite. Mind you, I'm a chinese girl walking around in a white people cemetary. That'd be an odd sight! As I walked back, I could feel the energy on my hands envelope my entire right hand. Then my wrist. And my arm. And my elbow. They were begging me to stay and wouldn't let go. It reminded me of children who hang on to you when they don't want you to leave; they grasp you harder and tighter, not wanting to let go.
I bid a silent farewell and wondered if I once lived here. I don't know and I'll never know.
Bouchon Bakery Yountville
6528 Washington Street
Yountville, California 94599
Phone: 707.944.2253
Fax: 707.754.4122
Open everyday, 7:00am to 7:00pm
Yountville, CA
(707) 967-9980







