1 July 2025: Today's return to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery moved me more than ever before and it's hard to explain why--at least quickly.
But I found myself crying standing in front of the tiny marker that just says "Henry," Louisa May Alcott's stone and the American flag she earned working as a nurse in D.C., Hawthorne's family group, and, of course, Emerson's rock.
The pens, pencils, and little notes left by others get me every time, but even more this time. They are little offerings of gratitude and connection.
So much in our country seems broken right now, on the day that stupid "big beautiful bill" passes in the Senate.
These writers, though? They point us to a better way. And they made me who I am--the kind of person who wants to help shape that better way for everyone else.
There they all are, at eternal rest together, but their words live on. It's corny and cheesy, but it's beautiful and left me wiping my eyes on the Authors' Ridge today.
