It may seem odd to some, but I like running through cemeteries. I find them peaceful and reflective.
I cannot read most of the headstones as I run past in the dim light of the early morn. Yet, the solitude is thought-provoking. No matter what my days have been of late, I’m reminded that I’m on this side of the sod with opportunities galore. I am grateful for the blessing of being able to run through the final resting place of so many.
I wonder about the lives once lived now represented by a stone marker. I see the flags on certain holidays and know someone served their country, I observe the flowers or solar-lights placed by someone who remembers “when.” Regardless of sons or daughters, mothers or fathers, farmers or factory workers, old or young, I am thankful for those who had gone before us and did their part in the world in their time.
As I exit the cemetery and enter back into the land of the living, I am grateful and blessed to run another day.