There would have been carrot cake. . .

Outside, the snow is deep and bright. The snow gauge measures eighteen inches. There are just a few fine flakes adrift in the air now but earlier, there was what resembled a blizzard. It took me back. How, I wonder, can I be taken back to a memory that is not really my own, but someone else's, that took place even before I was born? That is something to ponder. For now, I will simply lay claim to it. It was on this day, February 12th, seventy years ago, that a baby boy was born; right on the farm across the highway. Being a home birth was not intentional. Since the road had drifted closed, traveling was not an option. And so, Bob (Robert Allyn) made his debut right there in the farmhouse. Three years (three years!?) ago, he began an even greater, unfathomable (to us) eternal journey. In between, his contribution to the world mattered to him. Someday, I hope to write about his in-between but that is for another time.
The farmhouse, itself, is gone now. But the terrain--the lay of the land, the mountains and hills, the valleys, and even some of the trees are the same. I am often awed by consistencies like this that link us in time, from one generation to the next. I find it quite soothing to meditate on ideas of this sort. It is a most genuine opportunity for closeness with those I love and to experience the beauty of the earth through their eyes. Of course, it's possible to experience some of that purely from memory, too. But I rather like the idea of being physically present in this place where others' memories have mingled with so many years' worth of my own. I miss Bob. I feel his spirit in unexpected places--trees, clouds--soaring on the wings of eagles. In the past, whenever I had heard the expression, "love does not die," I would think, "how nice, what lovely words." But now I see clearly. I understand.
Today is one of the more difficult ones for me as I swing back and forth from the "now" to the "what-if's." While the practicality of "now" is crucial to healthy well-being, I think it is important not to avoid the "what-if's," completely. Rather, to invite them in, indulging them briefly, then letting them go, knowing they will be invited back another day.
Today, on this milestone birthday, there most certainly would have been no less than 70 candles! There would have been laughter and jokes. There would have been a ruckus in our house today and lots of noise, instead of the quiet hum of the refrigerator. (Although...the wind chimes are giving their best effort, today.) In spite of everything, though, I count myself among the very blessed--and even lucky, for that matter. I give thanks each and every day for the grace of God, Who has given me the gift of seeing my life in terms of all I have had, rather than all I have lost. And that has made all the difference!
Oh...and there would have been carrot cake. Made from scratch. Lots of nuts and raisins!