Yesterday, I had an experience that gets more profound the more I think about it. My cute little town, Golden, CO, had a time capsule reveal and dedication ceremony. 50 years ago, the people of Golden opened a time capsule buried in 1918 and then placed their own to be opened on November 11, 2018. First of all, the day itself is bursting with meaning. Many numerologists and spiritual gurus attribute power and significance to the 11th day of the 11th month. And I admit that I like the symmetry of it. Secondly, yesterday was Veteran's Day. It was also the Centennial of Armistice Day, which marked the cessation of World War 1. So it's a day to celebrate sacrifice and pride and peace. It also happened to be snowing the first big snow of the season, which added a buzz to the ambiance.
With remarks from the mayor, veterans, and high school students, the ceremony itself was thought provoking and impressive. And despite snowy weather and slick roads, the town hall and the history museum that was streaming the ceremony were both at full capacity with standing room only. After the ceremony, the items from the 1968 capsule were on display, mostly paper-based memorabilia--newspaper clippings, scrolls of signatures, and letters from residents. My girls enjoyed reading letters from the 5th graders of 1968 and seeing historical pictures of our town. We also got to see the new time capsule and we signed a ledger and wrote notes that will go inside, to be read in 50 years. It was the best kind of history lesson.
At one point, I asked my girls how old they would be when the next capsule was opened.
"57!" exclaimed my youngest, Cici.
"And I'll be 59," said Aleida. After a thoughtful pause, she added, "And you'll be 90, Mom."
Wow. This hit me harder than I expected. 90 years old. Longevity does not run in the females of my family. Both my mother and her mother died before reaching age 70, so the odds of me being alive for the next unveiling are fairly slim. 50 years from now, my children will be women with memories older than I am now. They will most likely have families of their own. They will have careers and a circle of friends they have yet to meet. They will have lived away from home--from me--for decades. Will they be at the unveiling in 50 years with their kids? Could I pick them out of the crowd if I could travel through time today?
My thoughts got heavy, my friends. And I'll admit that I fought with some anxiety. This was undeniable proof that time passes...and quickly. And in the face of such proof, I couldn't help but reflect on my life so far and consider what the future will hold. I have SO MANY THINGS left to do.
My anxiety did lead to motivation and resolve. Time will pass. There's no stopping that. But what we do with the rest of our lives is completely up to us. It's trite, I know, but today IS the first day of the rest of your life. What will you do with it?