I spent the majority of today at Oconee Hill Cemetery here in Athens. Part of the time on an official tour, part of the time chaperoning two very lovable, wonderful five year olds who found great wonder in these grounds on a chilly February morning. There is something haunting but also something joyful in a place so peaceful and untouched by time. The kids claimed they saw a ghost. For a split second I ached to get back just a bit of that childlike innocence.
A porcelain photo attached to one of the graves (circa 1943) is what touched me the most today--a man's face, obviously worn down by hard work and harder times, part of this place forever because his family chose to invest in a material that could withstand time and weather. In a cemetery, anything is possible--because it is a field full of so many unfulfilled dreams.
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