Passport pictures make me look absolutely criminal - or at least really angry. I might as well be holding a number in front of me. Neither of the Passports I found will be of any use to me. But I won’t throw them out. In fact I’ll be very, very careful about what papers I do cull from now on. This paper trail I’ve been on for the past week, except on my work days, has turned up possibilities only. Except for the strong suggestion in the air to make some phone calls. And of course to get the papers I do have in order.
This last leg of my search got me a little emotional. In my big box of pictures, there were so many memories of loved ones that have left this world. And not just pictures. Things like my dad's old pocket note pad, dusty and grimy from the field or the shop. While I was not looking forward to this Personal Archaeology, I am so grateful that I dug deep on my courage to do so. I found meaning in my life in hard copy. From a chubby baby in a basket to a grandma, the geeky kid with cat’s eye glasses in photos from the late 1950’s married, had a family and a nursing career. My life spread out all over carpet, desk and table showed that I have come a long way. And still have a long way to go.
I believe we all have such journeys. The details, names and places are usually different but our lives tell stories of what made us who we are today. Stories that are important to the world that we live in. We may never have our fifteen minutes of fame, be wildly rich or be the poster child for our careers, but our lives matter to our families - our children and grandchildren (or grand-dogs and kitties), our parents, our siblings and everyone whose lives we have touched.
“It is good to have an end to journey toward;
but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”
~ Ursula K. LeGuin,
The Left Hand of Darkness
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