Eight

I just realized my blog turned eight a couple weeks ago. There is so much I want to write about, but facebook and twitter seem to steal some of the voice that I used to put through here.

Anniversaries mean history. They remind us of where we've been. I came across this picture in some old family photos from my grandparents' generation. This one is dated 1939. It's was taken in the cafe/diner where my grandparents, great-aunts and uncles and their friends all hung out when they were in their teens and 20's. 

I don't know what this cafe was called, or where exactly in the Anaheim-Long Beach-Costa Mesa sort of area of Southern California it was, but I like that this picture exists and that it represents history of friendships, love, and laughter. I like the thought that my kin and their besties sat at this counter and talked with shining young eyes about the things they imagined were in their future. Before big wars, baby booms, suburbs, TVs, men on the moon, and many other unimaginables came to be, they were here with their hopes and dreams.

These are people who I only remember as dear, frail, lovely and old. They looked forward to the future with no idea of my emergence in their lives nearly 40 years down the line. I look back on their lives with no idea what I would be but for the history they carved out, their amazing and incredible stories woven into who I am.

Eight years ago I started this blog with a very different idea of where, who and what I would be in the coming years. I'm glad I didn't know what was coming because if I had I might never have had the courage to take the path. I love the thought that this life I bumble through is being woven into that which makes people I love (and will love) who and what they are meant to be. If that thought doesn't urge someone to live their best life I don't know what would.