Above is a picture of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the site where Jesus is supposed to have been crucified and then been buried. Beneath it, is the site of Cavalry Hill.
While meandering through the streets of Jerusalem, we happened upon a crushing bazaar–and I mean “crushing” in the literal sense: the streets were so incredibly packed we could barely walk. How could the merchants sell any goods under these circumstances? I gripped my purse to my chest and spent the entire time scanning for gaps in the crowd and wiggled my way through as best I could.
When the street finally opened up a bit, we took a left turn and ended up facing the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
It was a total surprise–and I spent some time wondering what this structure was all about. I was told this was where Jesus was killed and buried.
I looked all around for the hill, and for any marker of the story I’d been told as a child many many times. (I don’t know what I was looking for, really–but I always imagined the scene as a pastoral hill somewhere). The setting of the story changed entirely for me as I stood on its grounds, and walked through the square, mingling with the Greek Orthodox priests who happened to be visiting.
Now I am home, in another setting. The frogs are ribbiting outside (in the morning, no less!) and I’ve got a zillion errands to run. I’ve registered online for MFA classes this Fall (yay! I’m going back to school!), and I’ve got to pick up my postal mail, and maybe buy a few groceries. I’ve got to try to write a short story (my homework from my last speech therapy appointment). But most importantly, I’ve got to take one of my doggies to the veterinarian–her back is killing her! What happened while I was gone?
The setting goes on, even while the character is absent.