I’m about to watch my sister get married.
And there’s always nostalgia. Of course. Nostalgia is a good thing.
We were sisters growing up in the back seats of road-trip cars, no air conditioning, getting to the end of our busy activity books and wondering how we were going to manage the next one hundred miles without fighting like cats. We watched our crayons melt in the Oklahoma sun.
We were sisters fighting over closets and bathrooms and boys and privacy. But then we hunkered down on the sofa to watch the same movie over and over again on summer afternoons.
And we were sisters stepping our toes in the waters of the world in different ways and on different schedules, but we each swam deep nonetheless.
The past is beautiful and good and right and safe. It’s comfortable because there is no risk anymore: we’ve lived it before and we know what’s around the bend.
Sometimes I still sit in the safety of yesterday. As our children age we wonder privately if that crazy-almost-teenager could sit on our lap again and thumb through a board book. We wish that we could strap them in a stroller again and give them cheerios, but instead they are asking questions about God and heaven and drugs and sex.
But then all it takes is to watch these near-women run down the street in their pajamas, no street lights, only July sparklers lighting up the night. They giggle and swing the fire around and ask for more. It takes only that to remember that today is okay, even with all of its risk and joy and pain. Today isn’t just okay, it’s beauty-full.
And so is tomorrow.
Let us be grateful about the past and the memories and beauty that there was. But let us embrace today and tomorrow even if there are unanswered questions in middle of it all.
And my sister? I applaud her for taking life by the shoulders and looking it square in the eye and saying, “Let’s do this.” She isn’t afraid of today or the future. Neither am I.