Heritage

Perhaps one of the greatest full-circles of my life is introducing my offspring to our intertwined family.  Particularly my grandparents, the patriarchs and matriarchs of the clan that has made so much of me...well, me.

 It's like the best do-over there is.  Or maybe not so much a do-over, but I get to bear witness as an objective bystander of the sweet tenderness my grandmother has towards my babies. As a babe myself, I was quite consumed with my own egocentricities so that I was not aware.

 I love watching the patience of my grandfather as he teaches the next generation how to shell beans.  (And shell beans we did.  An entire bushel.  And the kids LOVED it.)

 I love the animation of my grandmother as she gets to know my youngest.  I don't remember that face.  But there it is.  With Piper in her arms.

 I love my grandfathers weathered hands.  Those very hands tended the soil and planted the seeds that grew into the harvest of vegetables we enjoyed.  They are also the very hands that planted seeds and tended soil in my own life, harvesting the me that is today.

Look at that concentration.  I can't think of words eloquent enough to describe how I feel watching her work side by side with my grandparents, their great-grandparents.  Proud.  Content.  Grateful.  Reflective.

Isn't the circle of life beautiful?  Marked by pain and disappointment, but also joy and triumph.  So beautiful.  And I get to see a brief picture of it in my mother's kitchen shelling peas.