As we were driving away from my grandpa’s funeral in Reedley it struck me that we have no more reason to go there now. Reedley has always been part of my life. We went there to visit Grandpa and Grandma Warkentin. I went to high school there. We visited my Berg grandparents there these last many years. And now there’s nothing to tie us there but the cemetery.
We sat with my cousin Clara at the lunch after the funeral, and joked that we were the kids table. You had to be, well, under 50 to sit at our table. Clara is only 29. All my cousins are way younger than me. But still, we’re the cousins. It’s us and then all the aunts and uncles. The truth is, my aunt Thomasine is as close to me in age as my youngest cousins, but still, she’s part of that other generation.
I thought afterwards that I should have just said you have to feel like a kid to sit at our table. For some reason, I always feel young. I even dream young. Sometimes in my dreams I’m back in school, getting on the bus or sitting and listening to a teacher, swinging at recess. It’s an odd thing. I wonder if other adults experience this? I remember an old man at our church in North Carolina saying that he felt young as a boy. Now I understand what he meant.
And I’m sure we’ll go back to Reedley. It’s a beautiful drive, and the Kings River is nice. And the cemetery is beautiful as well.