The world has a funny way of hip checking you if you are arrogant or (gasp!) HAPPY enough not to be paying attention. It is this way so often that it really is no longer remarkable...that is to say, it happens so often that when I am caught off guard, I really have no one to blame but myself. Today is my father's 73rd birthday. Now, I know my twin brother is thinking about Dad, and I know my mother is, too. Though our family have scattered like dandelion fluff, it is days like this that I wish I could draw them closer to me...If only to gather around the chocolate cake (symbolic of all his birthdays) and tell stories. James is the best at this; he never forgets anything--great for settling a bet, awful for hiding an embarrassing past.
On this birthday, I am thinking about the comfort provided by a good, strong family. I am thinking about how Mom and Dad built such a family for and WITH us. I am thinking about how rare and lucky a thing it is to have grown up with the family I got. When my students come to me to dump out their clanging thoughts and examine them like the scattered xylophone keys that they are, the sum total of their experiences makes me feel many things. At the top of the list is ALWAYS "lucky". I often tell them that they deserve better than they got, and I sometimes follow it with the idea that I got BETTER than I deserve. My brothers, their spouses and children, my mother and her extended family, even the brother who, for some reason, is not speaking to me...I love them all. I wonder if they know.
I'll bet my father does. Happy birthday, Dad. I'll see you someday.
