God Melts the Miles

There was no one on the road that morning. Not a single car. As I pulled in, I wound around the path to the back, and spotted the gazebo. Not a single person to be seen. I put on my mask (because of allergies, there was no mandate yet), got out and searched the names. David and Ruth Ann. An American flag fluttered. A wooden flower stood resolute. I bent down, wordless, and left mixed flowers and yellow roses, arranging them so that, maybe, they would not blow away. When I returned to my car, a few tears escaped. Their daughter was out of state, and had never missed putting flowers on her parents' grave at Easter. A few more tears escaped. My father had just died, and I could not be with my mother. God melted the miles, even states away, and quietly reminded us. What we do for another, also blesses our heart.