Life's handiwork (and Rocky, naturally)

When did life turn into stories like this, moments like this?


It's a question I've found myself pondering more than once in the past few days, particularly as I bounced from Washington, DC, to Philadelphia to take a breather and visit friends. Between talk of development, foreign policy, and baby proofing in Arlington, to talk of art, American politics, and March Madness at UPenn, not to mention large amounts of personal story swapping and updates, I could help but stop to think how it all turned into what it has. We hear about how children grow up so quickly, especially if we aren't watching carefully, and how things around us can change so rapidly, but lately it seems as though personal situations often meet the same fate. When and how did things go from that to this? And where were we when it happened, eh?


The very fact that I spent the last couple of days gadding about DC and Philly falls into that sort of "different life" category. Buying a house warming gift for friends in DC -now including one of those aforementioned rapidly growing children, tripping about the apartment as she gets the hang of her newfound walking abilities- and sitting at a table for two, splitting samosas and gobi parathas outside of an excellent restaurant in Philly, all updating one another on our personal lives and talking about definite and less-than-definite plans for the future. 


As we get deep into the story swapping, I can't help but shake my head in wonder. Talk of baby proofing, careers and applying for research grants, various other plans for the future, personal matters and significant others, political discussions and debates (though those aren't new in my world, they've certainly gained in depth, breadth, and understanding), etc. Gracious. Some developments are, of course, gladly welcomed, and/or easily and naturally slipped into. Others find me very much still in the navigation process, and will continue as such - after all, there are some things we'll forever be navigating, aren't there?


The wonder, though, is when and how it happened. Can I pin it down to a specific event, a day or week, a month or season? Was there something that set it off, or has it been gradually sneaking up on me, just waiting for me to stop and reflect on life's handiwork? Possibly a bit of both. And of course it isn't the first time that such a realization has occurred, but it seems as though there are certain moments, moments when we pause, look back, and think a simple yet resounding woah. Look at that. Look at where we were and where we are, where we might be going.

Kind of like a visit to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, necessarily jogging up the steps while humming/singing "Eye of the Tiger" in homage to Rocky and Sylvester Stallone (who, yes, has been immortalized with a statue at the bottom of the stairs). No looking back until you reach the top. Ok, now turn - and there it is. Philly. And all those stairs you just ran up. Quite the view, eh? Alright, now look ahead. Art museum, and everything that lies before and within it. Plenty to look forward to.