All roads lead to cemetery

In rural Oklahoma and many parts of Kansas, the smaller roads off of the small roads have an official road sign pointing the way to "CEMETERY".  In our travels the last few years, the Mister and I have joked, over and over again, "All roads lead to cemetery." [In Colorado, similar roads are similarly labeled, but "All roads lead to sanitary landfill," doesn't have quite the same profundity.]

Great Sand Dunes, June 30 2017

As with most years, we've been travelling a great deal this summer, although we covered a smaller swatch of the country.  Unlike most years, death was more on our minds, even when we weren't passing the cemetery signs.  I visited with two friends with hard-to-treat cancers, and I'm going to meet another tomorrow (the new husband of my good friend J whose "chemo crew" I am serving on).  I may very well not see them again.  I certainly hope to see them again, and life is full of uncertainties both miraculous and dreadful. Still the 44-year-old has a death doula and the 73-year-old has outlived an early prognosis already. The father of another dear friend is in palliative care and one of mom's long term friends has moved to a memory care unit for the rest of her days.  All roads lead to cemetery.  Visiting such friends it is hard not to see those roads and remember that the cemetery roads are not just for them, but for all of us.

Cheap nachos not nearly as exciting as the $1 ice cream
Or the final score Grand Junction 17, Orem 8

I was in his sights and his father was soaked

And somehow the travels were still amazing.  Dianthus learned to swim.  I baked nine pies. Dianthus and Aster added 5 new Junior Ranger badges to their collection (Great Sand Dunes, Chimney Rock, Mesa Verde, Black Canyon and Colorado National Monument).  We saw both sets of grandparents at their homes and in the mountains, the German cousins, a minor league baseball game, a professional soccer game, quite a few rodents, three waterfalls, one bear, and a lot of stars.

All roads lead to cemetery, but there is sure a lot to see on the way.

Yes, that is my mother zip-lining with no hands

Creek playing at 9,000 feet-- cold.