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Celebrating the ones we love

March 7, 2012

What is life without celebration? I’m sure many of us would say that that’s just no kinda life! Somehow celebration, when, well, celebrated, blooms and blossoms in us, causes us to look onto ourselves and those around us and say, Dang, life really is beautiful. Sometimes we celebrate in the hard times as much as in the good, by allow ourselves and our hearts to ache. This too, I believe is celebration. Sometimes, when an expensive cheese that is outside of a weekly budget is set forth on the dinner table with perfect summer wildberry jam, this too is celebration (or, if you want to be a pessimist, you can call it unwise financial splurging. In this house, we call it celebration). Sometimes, a calf is born, and a farmer’s heart leeps inside his muddy overalls, this, too, is celebration. Birthdays, anniversaries, achievements–these run the gammut of kinds of celebration that receive the most press, that we easily fall into, devouring cake (or sweet, rose-water pistachio nuts and fried cheese depending on your culture), opening our homes to laughter and to the joy of being together. And sometimes, something we see makes our silent selves celebrate. Seeing a person on the subway give up his seat for another. Seeing a child born. Seeing a hungry person eat. Feeling the touch of a friend when we feel distant. Knowing we have surmounted a personal road block, one that no one else may have ever seen on the road. Knowing that we have grown. Seeing the first daffodils of spring. Wadsworth I would say celebrated over daffodils. Enough so that he penned this famous poem in 1804. So, I celebrate YOU today, reader, and I celebrate you, Annika, today on your birthday. May we all celebrate together our loved ones, our joys and perils, the silent moments of our lives, the laughter of those in our houses, the comings and goings of our breadth, the coming into a new day. And may we celebrate the coming of spring in the daffodils.

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