Last weekend, I traveled a good portion of the eastern seaboard and visited with a dear aunt. The eldest of her three siblings, my godmother, I hadn’t seen her in seven years. She is the keeper of important family details, historical data. My cousin (and travel partner) had countless deep conversations with her across our four-day visit.

When my aunt showed us her photo album/geneaology book, she pulled out a copy of the following blog entry. Given the weight of many of our conversations, the poignant irony could not be any thicker than if fog had filled the room.

The motto of the weekend, a lot of our family, my life.