I always like to think about how younger versions of ourselves had once passed through places that older versions of ourselves now pass through; a grocery store, a mall. How we hold things that other people have held, at other points in time.
My grandma sent us a newspaper clipping from 1983, when she and my dad were in nursing school together. It’s crazy to think that she, 37, and my dad, 18, once held this in her kitchen, in her house, in Parma, in 1983. And then she held it again in 2006 the car, at 60, as she moved from Cleveland to Las Vegas. Then she held it at 71 and mailed it to us. And now myself and my dad, now 51, hold it in 2017.
And it hasn’t changed, but we have. And it’s traveled through all this time, and so have we, but in a seemingly different way. It makes time seem so abstract to think that I now hold something that younger versions of other people have held and touched at some other points in the time loop. And I say ‘loop’ because I truly believe that, eventually, everything comes full circle.