Memories Out of Season

July 10, 2014

The meaning of birthdays has changed as I’ve grown older.

Today is my niece's 34th birthday. A water child. She took her sun sign seriously and has always loved water. (Her job is in water quality—A coincidence? I think not.)

I see her once again as an infant. She resembled her great-grandmother Rose. Thankfully, she outgrew that.

I see her as a young girl, a devoted bunny lover, and lover of nature and things natural. Thankfully, she never outgrew that.

I see her as a woman now with her own young niece (Annabelle is SO EXCITED to go to lunch with Aunt 'Née!)

I look yet further and I see Renee my age now. Annabelle is a young woman, and with them is a small child who I will never know.

I see a multitude of generations in the future who I will never know, and who will never know me, like those generations stretching deep into the past who I never knew, and who had no sense of me in some distant future.

We are all part of an uninterrupted current, one great river of human being, flowing before and beyond time.

I rest in the peace and knowledge of the river, knowing it will continue flowing long after me, as it flowed long before me…

The meaning of birthdays has changed as I’ve grown older. I now celebrate generations.

Happy birthday, Renee. Water child. You are part of a river.