15

Numbers. They're just characters on the page, on the keyboard, right? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,...and so on. I even like numbers...until two of them ganged up on me today.

Those two numbers are "1" and "5." Simple enough. Both prime. But when they got together today they hatched a plot to make me feel old. As if I don't feel that way already, with grandchildren taller than I am. Even the small ones have feet bigger than mine, but that's not saying much.

No, I don't have 15 grandchildren, just 12. JUST 12, indeed! A glorious collection of leaders of tomorrow that all call me grandmother. Yes!

15 has me in its sights today. Lining up the shot, preparing to strike.

You see, I remember my parents' 15th wedding anniversary clearly. (Well, the day, the weekend...you'll see.) I was 13 and got braces that miserable Friday afternoon. We left town from the orthodontist's office to drive directly to my grandparents' home in Nashville, where my parents left me (mouth hurts by now!) and my sister for the weekend. They went off to celebrate their 15th anniversary without us kids, doing whatever parents do when they offload the kids and go away alone. (My mouth hurt, but maybe I was better off with my grandmother fussing over me and offering sympathy. )

That 15th anniversary was a long time ago, 45 years plus a few months.

The "15" that's attacking me, threatening me now is my daughter's 15th wedding anniversary, which is just a month away. She called today to ask if I could keep her children while she and her husband go away for a night and do whatever parents do when they offload kids and go away alone. Just like my parents. My firstborn has been married for 15 years? Not possible. How is this happening? Where have all those years gone? Vanished like a puff of smoke, I'd say.

So I feel like my parents' 15 years and my daughter's 15 years are pulling me, one pulling one way, the other in the opposite direction. One pulls to the past, the deep past, while the other pulls to the future. And I'm in between, looking first one way, then the other.

I'm deeply grateful for parents whose marriage was a life-long commitment. The example they set in this world of disposable marriage is a treasure indeed. They weren't perfect and their marriage wasn't perfect; I know because I lived with them for a long time! But their commitment was perfect and I'm blessed by that.

And I'm deeply grateful for my daughter's marriage, at the tender age of 15, which is also a life-long commitment. She benefits from the example set by her grandparents. Of course she does have all those kids to raise!

So here I sit in between them, pulled by the generations, amazed at the passing of time, and happy to be watching the parade.