Time is Flying

Time is certainly flying:  within the last two weeks we have celebrated our parish's 100th anniversary (while dressed in Polish glory - see above); celebrated Sarah's second birthday; quasi-celebrated our 12th anniversary of marriage; attended my sister-in-law's twin baby shower; welcomed my father, mother sister and long-lost South African aunt; watched the twins at a track and field meet; and said goodbye to the visiting relatives.  In typical Afelskie fashion, all the festivities were accompanied by a respiratory virus mixed in with a low-grade, but strange, stomach ailment.  Too much excitement.

Sarah turned two on June 6th and we feted her with bite-size cupcakes from the grocery store.  These are wildly popular, and far easier than me trying to bake, and anybody trying to enjoy the product.  In some areas, I set my standards quite low.  (Yes, Colin, the requisite stack of banana bunches at the Afelskie house!)

Two, and she refuses to look at the camera.

I can't tell you how much I love this little girl.  She is fabulous in 1001 ways.  She has brought countless joys to our family and often proves to be the sun to her orbiting brothers and sister.  I am so happy that we had to courage to say yes to her life.

And she loves food just like her mother does.

Perhaps the greatest celebration this June has been the welcoming of my Aunt Elena from South Africa.  She, my father and my Uncle Simon grew up together in Liverpool, England.  As soon as adulthood approached, they were thrown far and wide as children of the British Empire.  Uncle Simon stayed in England, my father moved to Canada (via Antartica) where he married his cousin's best friend, and my Aunt Elena was drawn away to South Africa by my Uncle Bruce whom her brother Simon had brought home from the ships.  Thus, I first met my Uncle Simon at the age of 16 when he walked off the plane in Halifax and picked up my sister in one arm and me in the other.  I had to wait another 20 years to meet my dear aunt.  It was well worth the wait.

Not only did I realize that, oh my goodness, Joe's eyes come from the Culshaw side, but I was able to see my dad with his sister for the first time in my life.  There is something very healing about witnessing one's parents in the presence of those with whom they grew up.  The last time that my dad and his sister lived together was 50 years ago, at the ages of 17 and 20.  During that half century, they saw each other twice.  Please, stop and think about that.  That would be as if Hannah left home at 20 and only saw Benjamin twice until she turned 70 and he 67.  That is a tremendous amount of time and life.  As my mother said as she sat and talked with Elena, "Why don't these people live closer?"  Or in the words of my Uncle Simon, "It's one of the saddest aspects of the modern world."  Family is meant to stay close; at least we will have heaven to make up for lost time.