Veneration

Yesterday my baby turned 15. Yet another reminder of how quickly time rushes through our fingertips, escaping like water finds clefts no matter how hard we try to cup it in our hands. In his wake is a lifetime of birthdays celebrated at the beach with our closest friends; we have vacationed together this same week in July since the year he turned four.  He has no recollection of a party absent of our cottage rituals and his partner in crime Kyle, the two meeting at the same milestone within days of each other.

This summer circumstances find us at home on his day, but not without our loved ones.  We decide to meet at the restaurant where our torrid affair began back in 2002:   An invitation extended over hamburgers and beer to join new friends at their vacation spot solders a bond that weathers the inevitable change accompanying over a decade of living.

I, of course, remember the original meeting like it was yesterday; the boys have no memory of it at all.  So this dinner for them brings no nostalgia. In some ways it feels like a completely different lifetime. In other ways little has changed, like our traditions at the beach:  Sand castles, bars and dunes, horseshoes, kites, go-carts, pizza, ice cream, cosmic candy, sunsets, campfires, and conversations that begin in the lingering gloaming flowing ceaselessly until well after spectacular starlight floods the sky.  It’s these constants in life, I’m reminded, that get us through the welter of change.

I’m glad my son’s special day is forever steeped in such happy memories.  With little more precious than the gift of time, what makes more sense than to honor its passing with the people who matter most?