My morning walk-with-a-friend-to-catch-up-on-life took a turn into one of our local cemeteries where the evidence of death is profound. Amongst the rows of those who lived to ripe old ages back in the 1800s were–to my mind–far too many who barely had time to breathe.
Many, like this simple wooden board, are enclosed in crib-sized fences, and others are outlined in stone or brick.
Some have no marker at all . . .
yet the evidence of what lies within is enough to stop me short.
So many lives, so many stories, so much suffering in an age when life was probably not taken for granted.
Breathe deeply, you who still tread the earth.
