Italy: Nothing is missing

I get off the bus one last time this morning at the entrance to the cemetery, load the tractor trailer with two brushcutters, a canister of fuel and the rest of the accessories, drive comfortably through the small forest at the foot of the cemetery hill and up the slope through the sunlit burial grounds. Today is largely devoted to tomorrow, which will be the closing commemoration of the labor deployment. I go up to the crypt with operations manager Detlef and we think about how we want to stage the final photo. I look at the summit monument from several sides, take test shots at the position of the sun, which we will also have tomorrow morning, and the decision is soon made.

Over the Futa Pass War Cemetery, a granite wall spirals up the mountain and ends in a monumental pinnacle
Over the Futa Pass War Cemetery, a granite wall spirals up the mountain and ends in a monumental pinnacle

 

Later I can still take some time to work on my texts. At half past eleven I start the tractor one last time, load everything that still needs to be taken down to the cemetery administration garage and bump over to the other side of the cemetery with Susanne on the back of the trailer, then turn right to the compost heap, through that small forest up to the big diesel tank. Here I say goodbye to my vehicle. I have the afternoon at leisure and spend it sitting on the bed with the shutters closed and the air conditioning switched on, deep in work. In the evening there is our desired menu again and really our favorite pasta dishes of the last two weeks are served in three consecutive courses. "What will you miss?" is the question. We ponder for a while and come to the conclusion that you can't be missing anything from home without it meaning that there was something bad about that trip. I think that is the best possible result of such a trip.