Monday, October 5, 2009


Pass and go
There is always someone sprouting
And someone graciously wilting
Little by little
Time passes
People trade places
The old pass on
The young become old
They hardly notice
It's almost as if
One day one wakes up
A parent
And another wakes up
A grandparent
And another wakes up
Brand new
And someone else is six
There are always children
In between
The generation gaps
So much family
That it's almost hard
To notice the wheel of time
Like a planet on its axis
Like a ball around the sun
We become
The rising generation


  1. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream where there was a grandmother and a little girl holding hands, looking in through the window. They say that everyone in a dream is a representation of the self--I was fascinated to think that I was both a grandmother and a little child, all at once. I am both Grandma Kathy and Kathy Lou, all at the same time, always.

  2. Yes. And here I find myself a mother, regardless of the fact that I still love to play dress up and wear my moccasins as a joke and a memory. And as I thought about it last night I was almost surprised to realize how young I considered Bryan's freshman cousin who rode up to the family dinner with us to be, even though I was once so young not so long ago. And yet as we sat and chatted with Bryan's sweet grandma in her home I felt extremely young and naive. It is a strange thing, growing up. Perhaps we never really do it.