When I visit in the eastern part of the country, I love to visit old cemeteries. So many old stories are contained in the family plots!
This one interested me, in that all of the gravestones seemed to be tightly contained behind a walled barrier, as though saying, this is our plot, all ours, and don’t you intrude.
It reminded me of some Southern civil war cemeteries where the Southerners were buried in one section of the park, and the Northern “intruders” were buried in another.
It seems that even in death, it is difficult for some folks to acknowledge that we are more alike than different.
The only difference between a rut and a grave
are the dimensions.