When you’re sixteen, you’re still a child, unformed and open to possibility. Somehow, I knew my own mind and was certain that this boy at eighteen with hair that was thick on top and sideburns growing, a folk guitar, corduroy straight-legged jeans, and a contemplative look on his face was the only guy for me. I was drawn in, fascinated, and figured that I’d find a way to talk with him. His mother’s cross-country teen tour was the perfect opportunity. He boarded the bus and sat down behind me.
We’ve had years in Medford, three babies in Wayland, Stratton time, Vineyard magic, Cambridge urban dwelling, a third son, two more daughters, two grandsons and a granddaughter. My grandma Sarah used to say that it all rushes by in a dream. Yes, it does. But how lucky you are to have your family and dear friends celebrate with you. I’m wishing you more wonderful times with your many dreams that have already come true.
No comments:
Post a Comment