The snow lies afresh on the foothills west of Denver.
Children walk to school with boots and backpacks….and runny noses.
On Prince Street, I see the names of Fleming and Cordova, Goosen and White….a bit further are Davies, Blake, and Cook.
They rest beneath snow laden pines where squirrels frolic in the white powder.
Each day as I pass, I wonder about the people whose lives brought them to a final resting place in Littleton Cemetery.
I imagine they were moms or dads….aunts or uncles….or grandparents to the kids who keep their spirit alive even now.
It’s hard to believe that they could rest in a more beautiful setting than this quiet hillside facing The Rockies.
I hope they had the kind of friendships and family life that will evoke heartfelt prayers and humorous stories at Thanksgiving.
May they be a constant reminder to those who travel on Prince Street….that life is fleeting and to live each day to the full.
I will continue looking for the playful squirrels and the kids with the bright eyes and runny noses….the kids who show us each day what matters most if we take the time to notice.
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