The Beat Goes On

Every time I look in the mirror, I see my sister. It's always been like that. I've always known exactly what I will look like in 13 years. It's really funny sometimes, like when I see a relative I haven't seen in ages. They're always astounded by the resemblance. Once, I was leaving a restaurant in northern Michigan and I was greeted enthusiastically by someone I'd never seen before. Given that the area we were visiting was my sister's neck of the woods, I knew immediately what had happened. I don't know whether to be flattered by these mistakes (Patty is very pretty, me, not so much) or insulted that someone would think I am 13 years older than I really am ! (Granted, there are days..)



Now, I get to be on the other end of it. As I watch my offspring mature, I see more and more of myself in them. One looks very much like me, more so as she ages, and the other has my voice and mannerisms. It's rather uncanny. I've been caught in the act of being inattentive to their stories, so wrapped up am I in their personas. It's frightening, it's mesmerizing.



I want to stop time. I want to stop these girls in their tracks. I want to strong arm them and shake them and warn them not to make the mistakes I've made.  But they will, and more, and other mistakes and there is nothing I can do about that.




I look back and I'm still in awe of so many patients over the years....the vacant eyes, the twisted limbs and the knowledge that somewhere in there is a young girl who was a dancer, a cheerleader, a young mom, a star. And I want to tell my girls that it's going too fast, they must stop and breathe, and remember it all.




But I can't. Like me, they'll go charging through life, focused on the prize, not even thinking of the journey. Until it becomes a lot of memories, like mine, bittersweet and beautiful.



For every thing, there is a season. Turn, turn, turn.