The Rule of Three…

In the web of ley lines that make up the human experience, there are several that crossing in my life right now that leave me feeling wistful, nostalgic, a little sad, and a little closer to the things of this earth that we can never quite explain or understand. Those lines lay before me, around me, through me…criss-crossing in an elaborate pattern that I will try to explain here.

The first line is that of my birthday – thirty eight years and three days ago, on the ninth day of the sixth month, I was born. These days come, of course, every year – and they tend to leave us happy or thoughtful, more aware of our mortality and our meaning, perhaps more determined to live each day to its fullest as we become aware that another year has passed. Three days ago, June is the sixth month (three times two) and I was born on the ninth day (three times three).

Near that line, as it has always been, is that today is my grandfather's birthday. He would have been 90 this year if he hadn't been taken from us two years ago next month. We didn't always celebrate them together, but I remember a few camping trips where there was one cake and two piles of presents. I loved it when we shared our birthdays – it always made mine feel that much more special. I'm always mentally and heartfully aware of the birthdays of those who have gone before, but grandpa's always strikes me even more because of its proximity to mine. Three days after mine, June is the sixth month (three times two), the 12^th day (three times three), and he would have been ninety (three times three times ten).

Somewhat separated from those two lines are two more. One is that I'm going camping in five days. We'll be going to three places – Cousin Jerene's backyard, Sacandaga Campground in Wells, NY and then Lewey Lake in the Adirondacks. We will spend six nights in places where my father went as a boy – places where my grandfather took him and my uncle and taught them just what kind of man he was and what kinds of men they would become. Three places to sleep under the stars, six nights (three times two), the three of us (mom and dad and me).

The line that runs near that one is that two years ago this month, I was on another camping trip to Lewey Lake with my parents. My grandfather came up to spend the day with my folks and I – we gave him father's day presents and birthday presents and sat by the fire, fed the ducks, and talked. Mom made him his favorite cake. At the end of our visit, I was hugged in the great big hug that was so characteristic of him and we waved as he drove away. Then we waited and listened for the honk as he headed off on the road towards home. It was the last time I ever saw him.

His birthday, my birthday, camping trips past and future – all of these things have come together to remind me of just how special he was and is. They have come together to remind me how vital my family and my memories are to who I am. And as I travel towards unknown experiences in campsites that are now old friends, he will be alive with every beat of my heart, every crack of the fire, every call of the loon, every lap of a quiet wave touching the shore of the lake.

Happy birthday, grandpa. And to my family…I love you.