This afternoon there is a party at our house for my one year old grandson and three year old granddaughter. My daughter booked a pony, and while she isn’t saying this, I’m sure it was inspired by an unfulfilled childhood wish. One pony is no big deal. It’s the fourteen-animal-petting zoo that makes me nervous.
Two thousand seventy eight miles to the west and north of us, while we are herding creatures, calming squealing children, and hoping no one calls the police to report farm animals within city limits (something I was not worried about until a friend married to a cop mentioned it), there is a memorial service for my niece who died last month. If you picture a quiet, somber service... don’t. It’s being held at an Dance Pavillion in the center of a Portland, Oregon Amusement Park. My brother advised attendees to dress appropriately for “Tilt-a-Whirl” following the service.
I wanted to be there. But I couldn’t miss my grandchildren’s birthday. My niece reminded me what a precious and unknown quantity life is.
I don't claim to be an expert on these matters, but I understand time and space in the world beyond isn’t what it is here. I envision her zooming back and forth. It's possible today she will achieve my fantasy: Being in two places at once.