Underground

I wonder who these people were. I saw a man’s name and a woman’s. The woman lived more than 80 years. Beside her lay two little plots. One was hidden by a tree. I tried to dust off the pinestraw to see the date, but my fear of snakes stopped me. I was able to see the dates from the one closest to her.

She was 3.

On my ride to the local Kroger, I pass a cemetery that holds hundreds of children’s graves. I’ve asked people smarter than me what happened, and I was told a flu epidemic took many babies.

These pictures aren’t from the children’s cemetery, but our local city one.

We think we are invisible. We think we have so much time. We think we can make a change tomorrow. We don’t appreciate what we have.

We aren’t and we don’t and sometimes we can’t. And we should.

I can’t imagine that this poor lady went through so many years after loosing two babies. Her heart must have been broken. Her husband’s too.

You just never fully know the stories of the people who once were here struggling through life, and now lay underground.

Underground

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