Awareness of Mortality — Sometimes Calming, and Sometimes Stirring Melancholy for a Life Unlived

Last night I changed my running route and headed in the direction of the old part of town. I currently live in Apex, in the Cary/Raleigh area of North Carolina. We moved here several months ago.

My usual running route passes a high school, crosses a highway, passes a large Costco-anchored shopping plaza, and after three miles reaches the local community park with a lovely two-mile loop around Apex Lake.

While I live just a mile away from Apex’s historic downtown for some reason I never ran in its direction, unsure of how continuous sidewalks are and not wanting to interrupt my run with too many traffic lights.

Last night though I decided to explore a new route. It was a very easy recovery run and I didn’t mind stopping and checking the navigation.

I passed through Apex’s historic downtown, which I had visited briefly before — a cozy place with the familiar feel of small-town Main Streets. But as I continued beyond downtown, I found myself in a part of town that felt older than I could have imagined. I’ve experienced America quite a bit and Apex has no special place in history books, but there was something authentically ancient here. The houses stood unchanged by time, scattered and half-hidden among the trees, as if untouched by the modern world.

I passed several cemeteries. They were very small — I’d never seen anything like this — just small…