As a reader of legacies, one of the elements that most draws me in is the succession of generations. I love meeting the children of each new generation, watching how they carry on family resemblances and ways of being, and also seeing their own unique contributions of genetics, traits, skill sets, aspirations, and essence.
As a legacy player and Simmer, I often fall in love with the current generation–and then, rather than celebrating the movement towards new, I try to freeze all changes to prolong my enjoyment of the current moment. I’m not ready to let the next moment come, for I fall totally in love with the current moment, often just as it is in the process of becoming the past.
In life, I often notice that as soon as I recognize a moment’s sweetness, that’s the time when the moment is passing. For decades–even since childhood–I would try to keep that moment from fading, holding onto it, then doing whatever I could to regenerate it or recreate it after it had passed. In midlife, I’m learning to open my palms to let the moment go. I’ve learned that it will be replaced by new moments, each sweet in its own way. Now, when that recognition of sweetness comes, it prompts me towards gratitude, appreciation, and acknowledgment. The sweetness, like the juice of a peach, is the signal that the moment has become ripe and ready to drop from the tree. Sip the juice and let it fall. New blossoms will open, new fruits will form, and each will bring its own sweet moment.
Madrona and Lamont have decided to move into Manzanita’s mansion across the street. They’re expecting a child, and Madrona wants to raise their baby in a home that feels entirely theirs. She wants their child to be the crown prince or princess of the castle, not the cousin spare. Plus, she’s looking forward to preparing meals in the gourmet kitchen that Manzanita and Eleanor installed. Lamont wants to be the man of the home, rather than the other man–Madrona’s mailman. And, out of respect for Aspen’s feelings, he feels it’s best to live in a home where he can openly share his affection for his wife without causing pain to the woman who first caught his eye. Plus, with Poplar now rolling whims to flirt with Lamont, too, everyone in the family is starting to feel like the simplest route to harmony is through a reduction in the size of the orchestra.
The rest of us realize–with gratitude–that we’ve tasted this moment’s sweetness, and it’s time to make room for the new. We know we’ll see Madrona, Lamont, and their royal offspring often–they’re just across the street.
They moved early on the morning of Niko’s birthday–see you at the party, guys!
Immediately, we felt everyone’s mood lighten! This sudden shift in dynamics is making the route to happiness instantly more direct.
While Niko and Poplar were at work, Aspen met a few of the replacement mailmen–not for her, of course. For Poplar. Just in case!
Niko came home from work so riled up. One of his clients refused to pay for this marketing piece he’d written as a freelancer. It’s stuff like that which really brings a struggling writer down. And on his birthday, no less!
As soon as his mood lifted, Aspen called everybody over for the birthday party, and while they waited for the guests to arrive, she and Niko had a few moments alone.
It was like every party–and it was a party all its own. We danced.
We snuck off on our own to play video games.
We blew the party horns…
We made a wish…
And after the guests left, we did the dishes.
The next morning, I noticed that Niko seemed more blissfully peaceful and joyous than I’ve ever seen him. Sure, the woo-hoo glitch is fixed, so he’s got spectacular going for him.
I’m thinking, though, that he’s savoring this particular moment in all its juicy sweetness. Yeah, we know now that means this sweet moment is getting ready to end. But we’re not worried. We’ve got a whole succession of sweetness waiting to roll down the pike.