Today is my dad’s birthday. How did it happen that so many
days have ticked by, every day, full of its own choices that
morph into memories? Days into years and he lives in all of
them…whether he’s physically here or not…I’ll see or hear
something and he is here…so close. I can sense his presence
and it warms me. It’s the swift passage of time that gives me
pause. It passes without care. It matters not what I pack into
each moment because it passes, just the same. Seasons have
ushered in the next and the world doesn’t seem to miss a beat.
It’s mornings like this that demand that I stop to remember the
magic that reigns in every day of my life. From the time I was
just a child, joy has found its home in my heart. I have been and
continue to be blessed with choices and memories. I begin to
count my blessings and get stuck in their magic after just a
few… I look back to a warm and familiar time, the memories,
so real that I can smell the bread in my grandmothers kitchen.
I’m back. There she is in her apron, hurriedly pointing and
directing and piling spaghetti and meatballs on our plates.
Time stands still when you are a small child and are finally able
to taste what we had been smelling all day…as the men sat in
the tv room and watched football games through closed eyes
and soft snoring. The women, all in aprons, made sure that we,
the children, were sitting in our chairs at the card table. This
was where we sat until we were, at last, graduated to the adult
table. Oh that is a bittersweet memory. It’s milestones such as

that that slides one year into the next and then again into the
next. I blinked and it was my children sitting at the kids table. It
was me that was clearing the table and shining the kitchen back
to where it’d been before our amazing family herded into
grandmas tiny home. Small as it was, there was always room
for everyone. The cousins chased one another until the
grownups showed us just how much noise was acceptable. And
I remember the sound of the screen door as it slammed behind us.

Now, today, my children’s children are growing and shining and
becoming everything and more. They are 3 years old. Before I
know it they will be 13 and 23 and on and on… The passage of
time becomes louder as there is less of it to waste. I think that
these cherished memories know just when to visit. It’s when I
have so much to do, so many reasons to get busy and
accomplish something meaningful. These mornings inspire me
to stop moving and sit with a cup of hot cinnamon tea and put
my thoughts down, to gaze out of my window and thank
everything holy for this wonderful life. I want to make
memories with my children and their children so when it’s their
time to look back to what feels familiar and lovely, I’ll have had a part to play.

I think of my dad and my grandma this morning. And I thank
them both for the love and care that they shared with my little
girl self and also my grownup, grateful self. I’ll miss them until
we meet again. It feels so good to feel like I’m home again.