As I drove home, I surveyed the land and sky. A cemetery with patriots and others. An orange sky. America’s colors unfurled with evening wind. I lifted my phone. Snapped a picture. Why? To remember. What exactly? That the men and women are now removed from here. That their lives here are now (perhaps?) reduced to a bromide or dates or relationships on a slab of gray concrete or marble.
One’s theology is crucial.
Teach me to number my days. One life. Make it count. For the truth.