The round table creaked as Grandma folded the mayonnaise into the potato salad. It was her specialty and the 4th of July would not happen without it. The smell of burnt sparklers wafted over the lake water. Mom and several others harmonized by the blazing fire, while Dad roasted marshmallows and bellowed out of tune next to her. I sat with my toes dangling in the water while feet scampered up and down the dock behind me. The glow of the fireworks reflected off the water and shone light upon all of the faces of my family.
These are moments when time stops and you wish it would never end. You know, in those deep, cavernous places of the heart that it will not always be. But for that one moment, you belong to something sacred. Three generations, as inter-twined as the colors of the western sunset that sets in the distance.
That belonging has significance that outlives our human existence. In it, countless legacies are left to kids and grandkids. Roots push under the ground and grow strong, healthy trees – a forest of family, where we always have a home in the world.