Celebrating life is always a magical moment. This particular moment was twelve years in the making.
The world is never quite the same with children to mark the passage of time.
Time; it seemed like such an eternity when I was twelve, the notion of life beyond my circle of friends, the next test, that cute boy one row over who doesn’t know I exist an ephemeral notion too nebulous to grasp.
Now it’s the past beyond my reach. Always has been, really; only sharing this moment with yet another generation, I’m keenly aware my life has passed its zenith.
No; on second thought, this moment wasn’t twelve years in the making. This moment was sixty-two years in the making.
Actually, the moment transcends time. I see my mother’s signature pose as my grandson Nathan, in the back, turns his head slightly to greet the camera. My mother would undoubtedly see remnants of her four little ones (three girls and a boy), when the world revolved around her sun. I see my two girls, along with their younger brother, there on the left, defying the laws of relativity.
As usual, we don’t see things as they are; we see things as we are.
I am truly blessed.