Christmas is coming fast and all I can do is think about the love I've lost rather than the love I am lucky to have around me.
We are traveling to my grandparents today. Driving through a city I told him I hated. From a distance it is beautiful. A city on the Illinois River full of lights. One year we visited and saw a laser light show for my dad's birthday. That was seven years ago. A lot has changed since then. For instance, that was the year I was completely infatuated with a boy who was nothing but mean to me. I never told him I liked him, but everyone knew. After that year I resolved, "if you want something, go out and get it." I'm not sure if my love life before or after that has been more tragic, but I still believe that if I want something I can be a self advocate.
My sister has always thought of the farm as home. She says it is because even after we've moved around this was the place we always would come back to. A mecca. We take a pilgrimage to the farm when it is most important to remember that love comes with patience and joy comes with compassion. Family teaches us so much and I'm excited about what there is left to learn.
Cousin Zeke turned one today. He has his whole life ahead of him. So do I.
Tonight I had a very special moment with my grandfather. I love and respect him with all of my heart. We decided that because he's turning 80 this upcoming year and that I'm turning 20 we should have a centennial celebration for the two of us. I also mentioned that in french eighty is called quatre-vignt or "four twenties." Then he began describing how impossible it is for someone who is twenty to imagine what it is like to be eighty. I laid on the floor and listened to his stories as he described what he has lived through, between World War II, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Cold War, and today. History is fascinating. I wonder what children will ask me about, or what I will have to share with them when I'm his age.
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