What a lovely spring day was yesterday! The temperature must have soared into the 70s. Perfect weather for a drive and a visit with my brother and sister-in-law. Bradford pear trees are blooming and the redbuds have started to…well…bud. After them will come the beautiful dogwood trees, their white clouds of blooms settling down among tree-filled valleys.
It is a satisfying thing to walk into the home of family and feel that they are glad I came. That’s even better than warming my cold hands in front of a blazing fireplace. With cups of coffee in hand, talk resumes where it left off, as if there had been no length of time between conversations. Families share memories and a bond that we were born into. We talk about Dad and Mom and how Dad enjoyed playing horse shoes or Mom liked to crochet. And I learn new things. Mom taught my brother to crochet when he was a youngster. His crochet hook was the handle of a toothbrush, carved into the correct shape.
I was blessed with four brothers and a sister. Eight years separate my sister and me. Three of my brothers were older than I and one was younger. So I was both a baby sister and an older sister. As a little girl, I stood in awe of my older brothers and sister, thinking they could do no wrong and wondering why, since mischief was one of the things I did best. A pleasant thing about age is that being an older or a younger sibling no longer matters.. We, all of us who are left, are adults and we enjoy reminiscing. We relish those past happenings now as if they are bright and precious gems, kept safe within our memories.
It is sobering to realize that we are of the older generation. I hadn’t thought about that until younger relatives started asking me questions about my parents or grandparents. Not too many are left who actually knew my grandparents. And now, not knowing quite how it all happened so fast, I am a grandparent myself and I’m supposed to know the answers to a whole lot of questions asked by curious youngsters. Sobering thought, that.
Anyway, with this new spring day, hope blooms like the redbud trees and I look forward to springtime. Another comforting thing about this generation that I’m a part of…we are all getting creaky and rusty together. We savor the past and are grateful for the present. And today we are making memories for those who come along behind us. Some day our grandchildren just may sit down for a visit with steaming cups of coffee in hand and ask each other, “Do you remember?”
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