Rosa and I Were Contemporaries

   Yesterday was Mother's Day, and I do not know whether this post has anything to do with that observance or not, but maybe by the time I finish writing it, the meaning may become clearer.

   After our early church service yesterday, I took the opportunity to get on my bike for a few miles of slow exercise. I decided to take my camera with me, just in case. As I rode out the bike path north, I saw an old abandoned house hidden back in some overgrown bushes. This triggered something in my mind, and I decided to look for more of these along the way, on some of the side roads, and photograph them on the way back home.

   As I continued to ride north, I noticed a road that I thought might be promising for this photography lesson and thought it could be my first exploratory street. I knew this was an older section, dating back to the 1700s and figured there might be something there, if I could spot it from the road. Not finding anything that I was looking for, I noticed that the gate to a cemetery, which had always been locked on all of my previous rides down this road, was open. It seemed to invite me to explore, even though it was private property. Every other entrance to this tract of land had "no trespassing" signs, but this one was devoid of these, so I entered cautiously, pedaling slowly down the dirt road.

   The cemetery was located maybe a quarter of a mile down this road and tucked back in a grove of moss covered live oak trees. It was empty except for the birds and squirrels and perfect for some photo exploring.

   I took a few shots, read a few tombstones, and then looked for some shots where the sunlight was right. Then I saw this:

   The light seemed right so I snapped and then looked at it more closely. Today, this mother's day of 2013, would have been this lady's 77th birthday. I thought that it was neat that I had noticed this, and then further realized that she had been born 10 days before me, back in 1936. We were contemporaries for a time, although neither of us knew that fact or knew each other. Knowing that this was an African-American cemetery let me know that our lives, although lived in the same time frame, would have, in all probability, been completely different.

   Then came the questions: What was her life? Why did she die at 42? How had she lived and what had she done in that life span? Would she have celebrated this day as a mother? Were her relatives still living in the area?

   Then I thought, "why did God take her at age 42, back in 1978, and leave me here?" Why was I led to her gravesite this morning, and could there be a significance to this discovery?

   I'll have to ponder this for awhile, but it made this a special day for me, and I'm not even a mother.

   Makes me look forward to see what Father's Day might bring.