Sometimes, I really think those who lie beneath our feet are letting us know they appreciate our remembrance of their lives. Tonight, I was at a relative’s little family plot that has no real grass; mostly dirt and twigs with just random, splotchy bits of weeds and greenery. But there it was… this little lone purple wild flower at the foot stone of his grave. I was walking around, thinking about him and there it was all by its lonesome.
Little Gifts
