Colors, changing hue

Today illustrated a line of demarcation. Dave and I spent the day in the country, celebrating Spring and a birthday. Not one of our birthdays, but, one that will remain important in years to come.

We spent the day in the West County. When Nat and Owen were little, we spent Easter Sundays on this family’s property. We did so, again, today. It just happened to coincide with one of our family member’s birthday, this year. Easter has a way of doing this, because it follows the liturgical calendar. So the date on which Easter falls changes every year - but birthdates remain constant.

Colorful eggs were retrieved from the base of trees, from tree branches, and from odd places (like the base of large rocks) on this expansive plot of land, where no one would ordinarily look for eggs or other surprises. The children took their baskets out, looking for decorated eggs - both real and plastic, some filled with hard-boiled organic contents, and some filled with candies or other prizes - stickers, miniature books, and the like. The sustaining features of the day were: the Earth, the cycles of the seasons, the fruitful land, the camaraderie (old friendships and new acquaintances), and the love of family and friends.

I have photos taken on this property, from when Nat and Owen were just little guys. Throughout today, I reflected on the generations passing one to the next. Back then, back when my kids were hunting eggs on Easter mornings, their father (Michael) and I were in our 30s. Now, Dave and I are in our 50s, and the torch has passed to Nat and Anna, as the parents of a young child.

We spent the day in sunlight, on a plot of land with perennial gardens and more daffodils than back when the boys were kids, with roaming geese and dogs, and with people who came together out of a common bond. The common bond was friendship - not decorated eggs or candy. We ate, we talked, we led kids to eggs hidden from their shorter stature (height and experience have their advantages), and we hugged at day’s end.

Now, in the evening hours, when the shadows on the hills remind me of the old days, while I wait for my dinner ingredients to marry one another - before I devour them (hmmm…), I’m allowed time to reflect on the day that might have been had Owen been there with us, and the one that was. I can’t go back, I can only move forward. True for all of us. Colors are, indeed, changing hue…

Song for the night: Starry, Starry Night, Don McLean

http://youtube.com/watch?v=dipFMJckZOM&feature=related

~ by Linda on March 23, 2008.