He didn’t quite know where he was going. But he knew it was there. He saw it as a boy, when his great grandfather had taken him. Back then, there were no wildflowers or grass. Back then it was mostly dirt, packed down by mule and wagon. Now it’s a meadow that had been planted somewhere in the in between time.

He kept walking in the direction his intuition was pulling him in. He didn’t know, but he KNEW. It was like his soul kept the memory of that day. That day he stood witness with his great granddaddy. He walked for an hour before stopping to rest under a tree. He was close and yet not close enough for those old knees of his. It’d been a long time since he was a boy; a long time of aches and pains.

Another hour and he was there. He didn’t realize it at first, because the grave markers were partially covered. But he had found it. The remains of the people who lived in the town his great grandfather was from, that no longer existed. The town that was burned to the ground, some of the people burned alive. “Always remember”, he had said. “Always remember we were here. Because they will make you believe we never were”.