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  • Christmas eve, me and the dog took a long walk. The sun was set low, and gave a warm glow to the cold air. 

We ran into a large cemetery, and started to walk the isles. It was vast, silent and beautiful. Many had been there recently to put down flowers on their loved ones graves for christmas.

    

I stopped by a grave that had the same date of birth as death – 1st of May 2007. The babys name was Jacob. His parents had put different plastic toys in front of his grave, like a whole Barbapapa-family. Two graves to the right rested another little baby boy. He had lived for a year. His parents had created a pile of teddybears and other stuffed animals by his stone. 

I started to cry. Uninhibited, but not loud.

    I felt that being in a cemetary made it all right to cry in public. I let the tears just run down my face, as we walked. 

I thought about my own son, and the horrible thought of bringing his chistmas gifts to a cold stone. I fell into a state of panic, mabye something had happened to him? Mabye ha fell out of a window, just now?

    

Then came the irrational thought that always strikes me after the irrational what-if-something-happens-to-my-son panic: I need to have another child, just in case.

    

I know that’s not a good reason for having another baby.


    
Then I thought: what a horrible place this is to be in if the zombie apocalypse starts now. That is if the zombie apocalypse is of the old kind, of course, where the dead rises from their graves. Not the new, Resident: evil kind, where a virus turns people into zombies.

    This trail of thoughts was a great relief, a zombie apocalypse is much less scary than a single childs grave.

 So I started to think about what to do if my son became a zombie (obviously not kill him, even though that would be the right thing to do).

    

Then I remembered that the human mind is a unique and strange place, and that one of our great assets is our power to imagine, and anticipate different scenarios, and to feel empathy and compassion with others.

    

So I felt normal again. 



    The dog felt normal all the time, I guess.
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