My baby niece was born this morning. I haven't been to see her yet (tomorrow!), but she was on my mind all day. I hiked a trail to the top of a hill and watched the 101 freeway far below me, speeding along in front of Frank Lloyd Wright's last architectural achievement (he died as it was being built, and it outlives him, as it will me). It amazes me to see the hundreds of tiny cars moving through that artery at any moment, aware that each car holds a life, holds someone in a brief snapshot in history that I am sharing with them. I thought, this niece, born today, didn't exist five years ago, as I travelled along that freeway, and one day, she will travel a freeway (in her Back-To-The-Future "1.21 gigawatts!" Delorean, no doubt) when I have shuffled off this mortal coil (or trail, or freeway, pick your metaphor). And one day long before I was a twinkle in anyone's eye, horses and buggies moved along that artery, alive and connected in one moment of history, the only moment that existed for them, ignorant of the freeway and machines that would trace their paths throughout the future. Such is the constant movement of life, as we each pass through and leave traces of ourselves for future generations to delight in (or suffer). I welcome little Janoula, pulling onto the onramp, entering the fray.

 

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