I’ve been on vacation in Colorado visiting family.
Coming back to the town where I grew up always feels surreal, even though I’ve done it countless times since I left more than three decades ago.
It’s been a good visit, catching up with people who’ve been my people a long time. I held my new great-niece and great-nephew—and reflected on when I held their mama as a baby.
I listened to my adult nieces and nephews share musings from their life. I still see them little in my mind and heart, but now they are big people with big people lives.
I spent some much needed time with a new friend, who is actually a classmate from long ago. Authentic friendship finds us when we have the heart and perspective to embrace it. She and I regret not being friends when we were young, but I’m kind of thinking what we have now is better than what we could have built then. And for that I am grateful.
I perused through some family photo albums from the late 1990s—and considered that old adage “it seems like a lifetime ago.” Photos from my first marriage, my oldest son as a baby and all those nieces and nephews as littles.
I drove past a few of my childhood homes and my schools and thought about how everything seems small—but seemed so big back in the day.
Tomorrow I head home.
We have but one lifetime, but it never feels that way when we look back. I see a lot of lifetimes looking back over my lifetime.
The years and moments leave remnants that we forget and recollect and forget again—only to then remember once again when jarred by a photo or a drive down a certain street. It’s like digging through the back of the closet and finding a sweatshirt that has a story.
Everything has a story.
I have but one lifetime. But I’ve spent time the past few days looking back over a lot of lifetimes. And I feel a mix of hollow and happy; restless and relieved.
Can you relate? Have you looked back over your lifetime and seen a lot of lifetimes?
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