Robin’s Egg Blue

I saw a gorgeous smattering of blue shell the other day that reminded me why I thought Massachusetts was special for having robins, when I was little.

Robins may be everywhere, but here they have their babies in pretty blue spheres.

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Because this visit is less of a hectic meet-family-do-family-business trip, I feel I’m connecting to a different way to the things that rooted my childhood. Or maybe it’s that I’m turning 30. Or that I’m worried about my grandmother.

That I don’t want to move back, when all my life I thought, in some corner of my mind, that I would.

The smell of pine needles warming in the spring sun. The way cracks in the pavement spring up with green — delicate, mossy green, which now reminds me of Germany, not the spikey “HI I’M A WEED” green of Oklahoma.

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I got to go out for a walk and hit the cemetery. I cried a little because I haven’t seen my other grandmother’s grave yet, snapped photos of awesome names, and gave kudos to the people who made it to 80. I’m so proud of those people.

I’m feeling a little aware of mortality, in a way I usually. I’ve been serious since I was a kid, but death hasn’t ever really bothered me, not as a personal thing. But a football player my age, raised here and for a while a player for the Patriots, just died.

The fact that I’ve lived long enough to remember things as they were twenty years ago feels odd.

Though I’ve just started my life, some others my age have already had their lives pass by. And though it is sad, and worrisome, right now I’m feeling more…grateful.

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Glad for all the places I’ve lived, and the people who have shared their life with me. For being where I’m still just getting started.

Everyone around me is living a life, and sometimes they’re not in an easy part of it. I have to be grateful that right now, even the tough things are part of a good life. One I’m enjoying.

Sometimes that’s not an option, and there is no reason to be ungrateful.

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