Beach Stones

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Yesterday we went to the cemetery, as we do several times a year, to visit, to remember, to place stones on the graves of ancestors and friends. Since this family has spent generations by the sea, we bring beach stones to mark our presence here. Anyone who sees them knows that these people reside in the hearts of their descendents forever.

Grey Day

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The sun is always there, even on a cloudy day. Peace is always within us even when life look bleak or scary. This ocean and this beach have been my life companions. I grew up here, my grandmother baked here, my grandfather sold real estate here, my mother and her sisters courted here. My grandchildren play here amongst their ancestor’s breath and memory, and now, we sit and watch the sea together, wrapped in generations of love, here.

 

Old Friends

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Yesterday I met a new, old friend. With ancestors in common, she revealed a line and curve that was familiar, yet, a face that was new to my eyes. Fitting in immediately with the kids; laughing, advising, explaining, offering; we shared photos and family stories and touched each other’s heart.

Connecting dots down through the years is an avocation for me. If I had them, I would devote hours to chasing names and personalities from country to town, seeking photos, stories and facts. But here, this new cousin presented me with so much in one afternoon, that I must pause, and drink it in. Fitting in new facts with the already known, I stand in the light shed by immigrant great grandparents, the ones who longed for a better life for their family…us.

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