"…dancing on the stage, of memory…"

Mood: Tired & Reflective

Weather: tempestuous rain-clouds clearing into breezy star-filled skies

Reading: The Decline & Fall of the Roman Empire, by Edward Gibbon

Listening To: The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of, compiled by Robert Crumb

My sister Mary celebrates her twenty-second birthday today, and my sister Sarah celebrated her twenty-third birthday on the last day of our most recently passed February. The two of them have each grown into lovely young women, and I love them dearly.

However, we have also grown quite far apart… be it in our personalities or the great distance that separates us, we have all grown into very different types of people.

Though the bonds of blood and familial devotion have scarcely waned, our common divergences in values and culture presents something of an obstacle to a true communal relationship of loved ones.

Verily, `tis hard to even carry on much of a substantial conversation when we do not even share the most fundamental assumptions about existence and reality. Trite pleasantries and idle chitchat grow tiresome to all parties involved.

Before long, the bond seems drawn forth from a pool of shared memories and fond remembrances. Living in the past, in the present. Once divided, nothing left to subtract.

I cannot speak of what they might think of me – if any trust is to be placed in gossip and hearsay, than I gather that I am not well thought of amongst those of my kin.

Being a man who is not easily understood even by those of my closest personal connection, it stands to reason that my distant relations could only conjure a warped and distorted visage of my true person.

Yet… if they only knew one thing truly, I would wish that it could be the depths and constancy of my love for them. For this is the truth.

Happy birthday, Sarah; and happy birthday, Mary… I love you both.


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