Fort Snelling

Stopped by to visit my maternal grandparents. Haven’t gone by Fort Snelling, where they’re buried, in almost eight years.

Easier to find them than I expected, considering there’s so many people there. It reminds me of the catacombs in Paris, only the people are just out of sight. It’s hard to think of the physical bodies right beneath my feet, because that’s not how I want to remember them.

There was a man visiting someone. He was all alone. He had a wheelchair, though I saw him stand briefly in front of one of the stones. It was terrible, and sad, and somehow still beautiful. It enforces how intense, and short, life is.

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