Today I was at my grandparents’ house looking at old, black and white pictures of my grandmother’s parents, ofÂ my grandmotherÂ when she was a little girl and pictures of her when she was my age with little babies hugging her ankles. That’s whenÂ this thought/feelingÂ 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 oneÂ as me), married a handsomeÂ 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 isÂ moving, flowing, & changing. I read a letter that my great-grandmother wrote when my grandmother was two months old.Â I couldÂ only imagineÂ 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,Â how big “the baby” was, how she came up with “the baby’s” name,Â & how all the otherÂ kids loved having “the newÂ baby.”
InÂ February of 1927Â my great-grandmother, was doing exactly what I do everyday–raising babies, writing, being married, missing herÂ mama, making ends meet, &Â working hardÂ to be a good mom/person/wife. It was neat to see the similarities mirrored from the pastÂ & theÂ presentÂ in our lives.