Words are seeds that are planted. Time goes by, and they’re harvested. Good or bad.
I remember when I was a little girl, Dad would say to me when we were placing flowers on family Graves on Memorial Day, “Do you want to see where I’m buried?” Sure enough, when I looked at the tombstone, it had the same name as his. Dad had been named after after his grandpa. (I had a hard time figuring that out.)
Years passed, and Mom and Dad died the same year. Both were in their 90s. My brother tried to find a burial plot for them that was near the relatives. None were available...
But then a peculiar thing happened. The cemetery owner decided to tear up an old sidewalk. The space was just the right size for Mom and Dad’s headstone, and it happened to be the same place where Dad said, Do you want to know where I’m buried?
SEED. TIME. HARVEST.
Whoa.
That is Interesting,,,