Luck of the Irish

Today is my Dad's birthday.  I have this picture from his childhood, with his mom and dad, my grandparents.  I do not remember my grandmother at all.  She passed to God when I was very young.  But my grandpa and I had many fond times together.  I remember mostly the time he always had for me; how he would listen, tell a story, and especially his easy, slow laugh.  Now my Dad is the grandpa and his own father gone too.  From the Child to the Father to the Old Man, time is a funny thing.  Time flies, they say, and you don't believe it, the days dragging on with work and busy-ness, until one day you look back with wonder, and if you are lucky, buckets full of gratitude for the love and life you've known.  Me...I'm feeling lucky!  Happy Birthday Dad!

Recordar: To remember; from the Latin records, "to pass back through the heart”

Scientists say that we are made of atoms, but to me a little bird told me that we are made of stories.