On our daily walk through the beautiful town cemetery – dogs are welcome, the cemetery thoughtfully provides dog clean-up bags and trash cans – we walk up a dirt path in the rear, up a beautiful hill, and we have come across the lone marker of Ebenezer, who died in 1868 at the age of 22. “Gone but not forgotten,” says the marker.

Red and I are in the habit of stopping there, we remember Ebenezer, catch our breath. It is a sweet resting spot, I think.