The Privilege of Love

It is truly a privilege to love and be loved. 

Yesterday, I celebrated my 22^nd birthday.   It was nothing like any other birthday I had celebrated, but that’s what I like about my birthday.  Every year I get to celebrate in a different place, with a different group of people.

And every year I’m reminded just how loved I am.

As I was driving across the state of Ohio, (something I did twice in the last week, I know route 71 like the back of my hand!), I was reflecting upon the privileges of mother- and daughter-hood. 

I’ve had the most intriguing, educating, emotional conversations with my mother, and I know now that those conversations are something that I will cherish years from now. 

I know that my mother had similar conversations with her mother that she cherishes.  But today, it is hard to see that those things meant anything. 

Alzheimer’s has a terrible price, and the memories that make up a person are lost little by little.  The memories that my mother has are painful because they cannot reminisce together.   We are a collection of our memories, carrying knowledge from decades before us into our future.

The memories of this world are being lost.  With each day we lose a little more of the knowledge that was passed down to those with AD.  Ask your grandparents about the world they knew, you’d be surprised how excited and willing they are to tell you stories.

Those stories, their memories, will enlighten your future.