ancestral ground

The structure above was once a school house that my mother attended for a number of years as a small child. It was literally a "one room school house" begun by one of my uncles many generations ago. I wish I knew more about this side of my family. They are kind and gentle people, heroic - yet humble.

Down the road to the right is the Mt. Zion Presbyterian Church and Cemetery. The church shares its pulpit meister with several other churches. The cemetery is full of my mother's half of the family tree. One day she'll be buried there somewhere close to my beloved sister, my grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. Before my sister was buried there I realized that I considered Mt. Zion to be a place separate from the world I live in... a place that acknowledged a time long gone... but of course it was me that has been long gone.

Just as I wonder how much there is to do and ask how it will come to pass our lives turn on a dime. We are reminded of its fragility... and how everything exists as different stages of ash and stardust. It all sounds so goofy... but physics doesn't lie.

The old school house remains... to remind us of things we've forgotten and lesson's we've yet to learn.