How is this only Tuesday?
That question probably clues you in to the kind of week I am having. Oh man. It’s not been a bad week by any stretch of the imagination. Just full. A very full week. More conversations and experiences and emotions have been poured into the last few days than I thought possible.
This weekend I was privileged and grateful to run another half marathon with my dad. The man has turned into a running machine, yet still refuses to leave my side during these races. Once more, I’ve sworn it will be my last…though I admit the itch has already started to resurface. (Shhhh. Don’t tell dad.) I love spending time with my parents and the continuity of time I feel when I am with them. They’ve known me my whole life (thank you, Captain Obvious), and I love the stories they share that connect my current existence with life in 1985, and 1996, and 2001, and last week. I love feeling rooted to my parents, a feeling of deep belonging.
Continuity is a strange animal. Some peoples’ lives seem to be comprised of neat and tidy chapters; mine is delineated by the continent on which I resided at any given point in time. Mine feels less like cohesive chapters and more like a random assortment of childhood collections. There are my stickers, and here are some rocks, and I kept some coins around here somewhere. They all fit in a box, but they don’t really go together.
When I’m with my parents, that doesn’t seem true anymore. They witnessed most of the non-chapters of my life and recall the funny mishaps, new friendships, and minute details that made up life in its every stage. They bring a common thread to all of my experiences.
This is one of those days in which continuity seems so important. You could name almost any date in the past 27 years and I would have no clue where I was, but I know precisely where I was when I heard the news about 9/11. And every year it feels like yesterday.
A friend shared this link, and I can’t help but pass it on. I love Jon Stewart even as I occasionally cringe at his “nothing is sacred” sense of humor. But this episode, his first following 9/11, is poetry and beauty and feeling. I have so many thoughts on his “I grieve but do not despair” comment…but this post is long enough already.
To be continued.