December 21

We got up at zero dark thirty this morning to catch a 5:45 AM flight to Baltimore. And now, at 8:28 local time (which is 5:28 our usual time but feels more like 11:28), I'm sitting in my grandmother's family room in a chair that was my late grandfather's favorite spot to perch. I'm watching grandma as she sits in her usual chair across the room. She's writing something in a journal and half-watching a talk show I've never seen. It kinda sorta feels like it felt back when I lived here 30 years ago and kinda sorta doesn't. But it's all good, because this is a thing this Christmas season:

I was thinking about it on the plane and I can say one thing with a great deal of certainty: there are many ways that my life has not gone as I thought it would go. I never thought I'd live so far from family and come back for extended visits only once every few years. I never thought I'd still be figuring out why I tick like I do in my 40s. And of course, I never thought one of my babies would go Home before me and force me to adjust to a new normal that I never, ever wanted.

But this picture --taken after we'd all dined on slices of frozen-food-section lasagna and conversation for dinner-- reminds me of an important truth. Some things --like my kids-- change over time. They get bigger and smarter and more sophisticated. Other things --like my grandma's sense of humor and this house we're staying in right now-- are consistently familiar (at least for a time). And both elements of life --the ever-changing and the sigh-inducing familiar-- can and so often do co-exist, working together to usher us onward in our respective journeys.

So tonight, I'm thankful for my current reality and for the reality of my past, because every bit of awkwardness and familiarity and confusion and success that I've experienced over the years made me who I am.

(And P.S. -- Logan is in this picture. He's the baby in my lap in the photo on the wall above my head. How about that. :) )