Life is a lot like a river, It starts somewhere and begins it’s journey. Such a simple concept and easy to take for granted. “Another grandson, cool”, and so the baby talk gushes from parents, grandparents, great grandparents, and so on. Sooner than later for some of us the sledge-hammer of what’s at stake in starting well with this little man grips our mind and tugs at our heart.
Rather than rush out and get him his own 401k I’ll probably opt to blow his future on fishing tackle and getting to know him. Probably the best I can hope for is to navigate some of the terrain of life with him. May our rivers flow together.
I stood out on the lake ice in February to capture the beginning of the mighty Mississippi. So much symbolism contained in the beginning of a life of its own. A small stream one can walk across on the rocks and not get wet. A fragile, pure and gentle stream meandering toward Canada but routed to the gulf by the lay of the land.
Hey little man, may you navigate well through the wilderness of life. May you always have a source of life to grow. May you overcome the beavers who would mold you for their purposes. May you understand purity and truth as other waters attempt to dilute who you are. May you carry others where they should go. May you know your creator. May you get to know grandpa.