Today I was at my grandparents’ house looking at old, black and white pictures of my grandmother’s parents, of my grandmother when she was a little girl and pictures of her when she was my age with little babies hugging her ankles. That’s when this thought/feeling ran over me like a freight train that LIFE just feels so much more real & fragile than it ever did (this has consistently run over me since becoming a mom.)
Here is this woman who once upon a time was a little, bitty baby, the youngest of 6 children, she played basketball in high school (I did too), went to college (the same one as me), married a handsome man from her university (like I did), and started raising a family (like I am.)
I saw generations of people in photos today & realized that life is moving, flowing, & changing. I read a letter that my great-grandmother wrote when my grandmother was two months old. I could only imagine my great-grandmother writing this letter at 30 years of age (3 years from my age now) telling her mama all about her new baby, about the cold “the baby” had, how big “the baby” was, how she came up with “the baby’s” name, & how all the other kids loved having “the new baby.”
In February of 1927 my great-grandmother, was doing exactly what I do everyday–raising babies, writing, being married, missing her mama, making ends meet, & working hard to be a good mom/person/wife. It was neat to see the similarities mirrored from the past & the present in our lives.