Seasons of Love.

“Five hundred twenty-five thousand 
Six hundred minutes,


Five hundred twenty-five thousand
 Moments so dear.


 Five hundred twenty-five thousand
 Six hundred minutes


 How do you measure, measure a year?”

It happens every day. We wake up, get out of bed, and we may not think of it consciously, but we are another day older.

What’s kind of funny is…we will often say, “I can’t wait for this week to get over, or if it were only Friday I could finally be done with work.” In so many ways we try and prevent aging, yet on the other hand we encourage it. What’s up with us?

Almost every night I get a phone call from my daughter Audrey; she is 9 years old and she will call and ask, “Daddy, when will you be home?” I usually give her the broad stroke answer…”soon.” She is smart enough now to know that “soon” is not the answer she wants to hear.

Well, she got me back the other day.

When I was driving home from work, she called and asked, “How long will it be until you get home?” I said, “I should be there in 30 minutes.”  Her response…”Okay Daddy, I am going to set the timer.” I loved it. What a creative way to get me to hold my promise. I did everything I could to make it, and I was sure I did, but was told the beeper went off several minutes ago. Honestly, I think she set the timer wrong, but I was not going to dispute that I was later than expected.

Last Friday night, I took our two youngest to the annual “Daddy daughter dance” sponsored by the local park district. Not only did I feel old being there, but so did our girls. It turned out there was a local theater performance at the grade school  and most of their friends opted for that over the dance. Most of the daughters at the dance were 6 and under---but that’s okay, we danced a lot which is something we normally don’t do.

Why?

Because the girls run around with their friends instead---being alone with them was just fine with me. I suspect they felt the same.

Tonight we are going to the annual lip sync contest at their school. I have attended it for the past several years but never really have seen it—I was the photographer taking portrait photos. Not this year. I said, “No.” I want to spend the “Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes” (plus leap year) with them.

The photo above was taken several years ago. My daughter Audrey met her great, great Aunt for the first time. What I loved about this photo is the touch; between the 2 hands touching one another, there is a difference of 104 years; my wife’s Aunt Lona passed away when she was 107 years old. (Give or take a few hours or so.)

Thanks for stopping by.