James Whitcomb Riley's grave site.

A view of the military section within Crown Hill.

This is a grave marker I would die to have.

When I was looking for a way to kill time on Saturday afternoon, I ended up driving by Crown Hill and deciding to head in for a bit to do some investigating. I quickly regretted getting there so late in the day, I could have spent the entire weekend meandering and discovering. I loved the Gothic Chapel, it seemed to be in its exactly right place in the world. Walking slowly through the graves, appreciating the most simple markers juxtaposed next to the most ornate, I tried to decipher how and if our status in life follows us after we have left it behind us.

The view of the city from James Whitcomb Riley's grave is something that I'll never forget. Nor is the stark punch to the gut that I emotionally received when standing in the middle of the military cemetery. Recognizing family names that I have come to learn from living here almost all of my life gave me a sense of the history of our city. And realizing that those recognizable names were such a minority in the cemetery reminded me that that same city has been built upon the shoulders of people I will never know of. I am incredibly grateful for them all.