Cemeteries are fascinating monuments for me. When we visit an old city, I always make sure to include a cemetery on our list. I enjoy examining the stones and the etchings, as well as the dates and names that tell stories of the past. There’s something sacred and grounding about standing in these peaceful spaces, where history feels personal and alive.
But during this time of year, curiosity grows stronger. Perhaps it’s the cool air or childhood memories of sneaking through cemeteries at night, listening for the cracking of branches and the rustling of critters. Cemeteries hold a mix of mystery and reverence, reminding us that the people who built our communities once walked these same paths.
During the pandemic, I started researching my family history and uncovered deep roots in Arkansas, which trace back to my origins in Texas. I discovered ancestors who settled in Amity, Nashville and Washington, along with preachers and shopkeepers who shaped the early communities there. Visiting their final resting places unexpectedly connected me, grounding my wandering heart in the place I now call home…