How is it possible we have already arrived at June's final Sunday? It seems as if it was only yesterday Wilma and I were celebrating the fact that the distance between where we were then and there and Memorial Day Weekend was finally able to be measured in weeks instead of months. Now? Memorial Day Weekend is a month's worth of days in the rear-view mirror and getting smaller and harder to see.
Life is a forward-moving exercise. Always has been. Time spent lamenting the water that has now passed beneath your boat's hull is time wasted. The older I get, the faster time seems to move. I have no time to waste contemplating what was, what never was, and what might have been.
As June cedes its time on the stage to July, it is true that the days get incrementally shorter. But it is also true that the Colorado branch of the family business will come east (I still say "home" silently, to myself - OK not silently but I use my inside voice - as if the place where they have not lived in more than a decade and not the place where they have lived continuously for the entirety of that time is their home). Their number shall include our newest associate, my granddaughter Shea.
She is fast approaching her first birthday and when I see her in July it will be the first time that her Pop Pop has laid eyes on her or has held her. Three-fifths of my Dream Team are July babies and they will have the opportunity to celebrate together on a day that is not any one of the three's birthday, which makes it a day they can share.
And a day that old Pop Pop is looking forward to very, very much.
-AK
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