Standing in the middle of a road, surrounded by some great people, staring up at the stars. The stars here have so much more depth than the stars do back in California, they’re just so much denser, you can see so many different sizes of them. It reminded me a little bit of growing up, my mom reminded me of going to the farm where my grandmother and great-uncle lived, and I brought up going to a field near my other grandparents’ house. I mentioned that I didn’t really remember anyone other than my grandfather there, and my mom pointed out that my grandmother probably didn’t go, and maybe even my little sister didn’t. So I basked in that warm memory a little bit. I really miss my grandfather, though it’s less painful these days than it was when he first left. Now it’s mostly just warm small moments that I remember him, like this.
Another thing that makes me feel close to that grandfather is reading. I’d gotten away from it for a few months there, but I’m back into it full-swing; I’m almost done with a book called Mastery which has been a wonderful read. I bought a few books in the airport on the way here that I’m pretty excited about, and of course I have a bunch of books already that I’ve been meaning to read. I have a storage unit still in my home state, and my mother informed me on this trip that I have more than eight big crates of books in there. I didn’t remember precisely how many books I had — I inherited a lot of those books from those grandparents — but it made me a little happy to hear. My mom was less than enthusiastic about them all though. I just remember growing up how those grandparents had walls of books, just so many books, and it always made it feel so home. I want my home to be like that.
There’s always so much that connects us, and times when we’re back with family can help remind us of that. Even those of us who aren’t here with us anymore, are still part of us all.