During our wonderfully relaxing and restorative weekend, we wandered through pockets of memories from my childhood, my adolescence, my wild university days, my young adulthood and my pre-me extended family.
It felt odd to cross paths with the many versions of me. With my lost and found cousin. In my lost and found life.
Scary stats and niggling twinges of mortality can make me antsy about the quantity of time ahead.
Drifting in and out of these memory-packed spaces reminded me that life is short at the best of times. But, more importantly, that even short personal eras can pack huge whacks of life.
Here’s to great memory-making ahead.