I've been zigzagging across these paths for a while now and especially over the last few weeks. Following along the Pony Express Trail, passing old stations and land marks known and marked from history, sometimes the past just doesn't seem so long ago.
This past weekend, I came across the preserved cabin built by Porter Rockwell in Eureka, Utah. It stands outside, under a protective roof, like a proud trophy or monument to a remembered hero. While I stood admiring the work that must of been used in order to move and protect this old structure, several other passer-thru's stopped to look as well. Ol' Port still can draw them in!
I snagged a picture and touched the cabin. Although the oils of our hands didn't mix, the act of touching something that someone who died nearly a hundred years before I was born had touched, made that person real and become a part of me.
Within the echoes of the past
Stirs the whispers of the future.