Memorial Day. It used to be spent marching and playing in the band and honoring those that lost their lives at sea on the north bridge of my hometown of Lisbon. Wreaths would be tossed into the river by the boy scouts, girl scouts, and veterans and then we would travel up the hill to the cemetery and honor those that lost their lives on land. The voice of democracy speeches would be given and gun shots would be fired into the air. We then would meander around the cemetery up to my dad's grave, and then we would wind down to my great grandma and grandpa's graves. I remember that the cemetery was beautiful this time of year, with the healthy green grass and pretty flowers beside the headstones.
This year though, it was a rainy, cloudy day and we didn't make it back to Lisbon for the memorial day services. The rain did let up a bit this afternoon, allowing Elizabeth and I to go off-roading with the golf cart in the back trees. The bark on the trees was almost black from the rain, very contrasted against the green ferns, grasses, and leaves that we passed by.
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