I had some old friends come into town last night. One was an old friend who had since moved away, and she brought her two teenagers with her. I used to babysit them when they still lived in the area, years ago. My friend had come into town on other business, so she went out tonight and I hung out with her kids – not really kids anymore. I found myself in this surreal and yet sweet circumstance, talking about death and religion, sexuality and mortality with these people that are mostly adults, just without experience. I felt privileged that they felt comfortable enough to be so open about who they truly are with me, and yet somewhat amazed about how years mean nothing. You can find kindred spirits in generations ahead and behind you. The fourteen year old had told me that he had been looking forward all week to trekking up to the area and seeing me. He still remembered me, even though he was just a kid when they left.
We ended up watching Cloud Atlas, one of my favorite movies. They picked it out. I think my favorite line, one that rings true even if it comes from a movie/book is this:
“Our lives are not our own.
From womb to tomb, we are bound to others,
past and present,
and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.”