Mysterious

Sometime in the morning I look at my watch for the date. Yep, it's Robin's birthdate.

I don't get hung up on how old she would be today. She got to be forty-three. You don't keep aging after you die, so she just never made it to forty-four.

Sometime in the thaw of Spring I seem to have reached a point of being able to look back and see Robin's life as having been whole. It's kind of like "I didn't get cheated", "she didn't get cheated", it's just that that was her life and her time. It had a beginning and an end. How many people have come and gone in the history of our planet - and sooo fast. Somehow dates like 1910 or 1850 don't seem that far away anymore. We must be talking my "great-grandparent" range with those dates. Just a few generations. People come and people go. Somehow it seems less mysterious now.