It was lying crumpled in the ditch, all folded over on itself, so that only a portion of the foot-tall letters were legible. "...LCOME" was all that I could see.

I kept on running, stride after slow and steady stride. Green grass waved at me from the fields. Red-winged blackbirds soared into the Sunday morning sky and let out their bright cheeps with all their hearts.

Whose homecoming was being celebrated? A soldier coming back from overseas? A son or daughter coming home from college? A long-lost friend or relative? Whoever it was, his family loved him, once. He stepped off the bus or opened the door of his car and there they all were, grinning, an enormous banner stretched out over their heads, welcoming him.

A brown-and-white spotted rabbit bounded off into the field ahead of me, all fluffiness and speed. Farther along the road, the stiffened carcass of a possum was glued to the asphalt, its mouth fixed into a final snarl. A woodpecker pounded his beak fruitlessly against a telephone pole before giving up and flying away.

Who goes out and buys a giant "Welcome" banner, and then leaves it to rot in the ditch? It seemed like the saddest thing in the world to me.

A handful of sparrows scattered into the sky at the sound of my steps. All except one, who hopped away, his broken wing thrust upward at a stiff, painful angle. And then that was the saddest thing in the world.

The sun went on rising, the green fields kept waving. Rain misted the earth, cool on my sweaty face. It seemed like there was a lesson here, a metaphor about life in the midst of death, joy and sadness, beauty and ashes. A welcome home banner, discarded in a ditch, surrounded by wildflowers. The sparrow hurt but still hopping.

But I wasn't wise enough to put it into words, so I just kept on running.