One writer friend wrote a memoir about her grandmother’s youth, a lovely photograph of how Grandma met Grandad. Another friend wrote a bio about her father and the hardships he encountered in his youth. Both wanted to capture these moments for future generations so that these dear people and their lives would not be forgotten.
Another friend wrote a Christian devotional about the seasons in one’s life. Written like a workbook, the reader studies and assesses each facet of their lives. An eye opener, the book assures the reader that it has nothing to do with age; it might be possible to be at the start of one project or relationship in life (the spring) while at the same time be at the end of another cycle (the winter).
I have never been one to notice age. As a child, I held my own among the adults around me. When I graduated from college and started out into the world, I stood shoulder to shoulder with my fellow adults, regardless of age or experience. I often forget that I might be among the oldest in the room, and I only realize it when I look in a mirror. The grey kind of gives it away.
I have lived entire lives and am in the midst of enjoying another one. I raised a family, had a career, and have so much that I still want to do that my dance card is full and so is my calendar.
Maybe one day, someone will write a memoir or a biography about me. They’ll talk about how I lived out my seasons and did it all over again, year after year.