24 roses

Today is my birthday. Yes, I remember what I was doing when John Kennedy was shot. I was in school, looking forward to my birthday party the next day. I don't remember being sad right away, because I didn't really understand how awful and scary it was, until later, when we saw the amateur footage of the shooting on the tv. This was long before instant news and blogs and twitter, and cameras with phones and youtube. The footage was grainy and black and white, but mysterious and dreadful. My birthday party was wonderful, as I recall. More poignant because of the grief of our nation's loss in the background. This birthday is like that one. My sister sent me 24 roses, and a vase to put them in. Her card noted that reaching this birthday was especially miraculous and precious. Yes, indeed. Each step into the future is measured in miles already run, looking into the distance to the next mile marker. The measured and treasured stride, gently adding one to another, toward the destination that ends in our life's greatest joy.