On Tuesday my parents moved into a retirement community, and on Wednesday Joseph got accepted at UC Santa Cruz. It’s the kind of week when you can almost hear the great wheel of time creaking around.
I’m writing this at the old oak kitchen table that I remember from my childhood. It’s at our house now, along with a few other things, like my grandma’s painting of yellow roses, the windchimes, a pile of old family pictures.
And yes, I know, this is all very ordinary. People grow up and go to college. Parents age and move into retirement homes. It happens every day. (Well, the aging part anyway. Not the college or retirement home part, which requires money or at least a whole lot of financial aid).
And the sun sets. And flowers bloom. And the whole huge universe swirls around us. All the time.
But that doesn’t make it any less . . .
I couldn’t decide on a word to finish that sentence. Maybe there isn’t a word, just that feeling that we have in those rare moments when we feel embraced by things that can’t be put into words.
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