Every object is a reason to pause.

This month I walked to the temple before light and lit the lamps, one row for the names I was given, one row for the ones I wasn't. I hung new flags on the pass above the village; the old ones had gone pale, which means they did their work. Tomorrow we add stones to the wall. People far away send me a name, a wish, sometimes only a date they can't forget. I carry these up the mountain. I don't promise anything changes. I promise the lamp was lit, and that someone here was thinking of you.