We have spent the last few nights going through a big old suitcase of photographs.
A whole chunk of our life just sitting there waiting to be rediscovered.
The things you forget. The names and faces that are familiar yet unremembered.
And the names and faces that are still part of your life yet somehow changed.
There are whole swathes of our memories, seasons of our years, that are carefully held in these images.
And I find myself again and again, marveling at how timeless they are.
All the forgotten photographs that include my children, are somehow my own memories,
my own childhood.
I see myself, my brothers, my sister.
I see us all on this wonderful wheel of life.
There seems no dividing line at times.
We are one.
And the summer grass is mine,
crisp and dry and bristly underfoot.
And the sky forever wheels overhead,
like a friendly hand anointing our blessed heads.
We are running barefoot and innocent once again.
And though my life is changed,
is changed beyond belief,
And I have changed,
Though this is true, one thing remains the same:
We who are born and raised together,
time and distance may capture,
but the bond we cannot break.