We came together as a family to celebrate birthdays of my two oldest daughters and my future son-in-law. The feast was bountiful with gluten free, starchy, grainy, meaty dishes and the table was customarily too noisy with cross conversations being exchanged in outdoor voices. The house burst with life - and love. Tears were shed (and not only over my daughter's gluten free cake attempt), and the best gift of all was my dad's emotional reaction to the gift of his family's history, neatly bound, and presented to him by my niece and nephew. These treasures of the past become that more precious and meaningful as we age, and get farther away from our beginning.
Last week I made two separate trips into the city to meet friends for dinner. Ironically each of the three have logged more than 36 years of friendship with me. We knew one another as kids, swapped vinyl records and listened to AM radio in the days of soft faded Levis, wedge haircuts and school band. As I drove the four-lane expressway into the city it occurred to me that to have friends from childhood still such a large part of my life is truly remarkable. One more reason to cut November a little slack, even if she did spill a little snow last Thursday.
And today hubby and I went with my engaged daughter and her beloved to choose the spot amongst the tall pines where they will make their vows next summer.
So many spots of light flickering amongst the gray and cool damp of November. And for that I am truly grateful.