So, seven of us are sitting around a table at a senior center.
As we chat, we laugh and reminisce. The seniors at the table (oops, I forgot, we were all over 60 – so, there were 5 “senior” seniors and two of us “juniors”) talked of the old days and living in these new days.
Eventually we looked at each other. My aunt and her husband were there. Another lady had a sister who had married the brother of another man at the table. And as we went round the table, this was a time of discovery of who was just continued.
In the end, we were all related, by blood or marriage.
Not too often that happens, but it is one blessing (and some days curse) of living in a small town. I was glad to announce that I would be buried in this town. They were glad as well.
Even that thought had its meanderings, as we talked about where in the cemetery we would be buried.
OH . . . the fun of growing old with those who know who you are.