I was one of the youngest in my class. I think Mark and Amy were the only two with birthdays after mine. But this year has been an endless succession of congratulations on 40th birthdays on my class email loop.
At what point did I realize my mortality? Was it when the lady who used to come to my door begging for food died of AIDS? When I drove Suzanne's father to the hospital in the morning and drove his body to the village the same afternoon? When I listened to my father deliver one of several eulogies he's done lately? The dear people who did so much for us in helping us get to Africa are finishing their lives.
And time marches on. The children become the parents and then the grandparents. The baby grows taller than her mother. The world winds down and we look beyond.
I'm feeling melancholy tonight, thinking about loved ones who fight for life, who yearn for health, who long for home.
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