I barely remember my great grand mother Amy Teresa. I was four or five, and I was afraid that I might break her. Those thin wrists and knobbly hands with blue veins and brown spots were only made only a little less intimidating by the sparkling eyes magnified by pinkish thick lenses. I was in awe. But I felt loved.

It dawned on me the other day that I’m the same number of generations from the newest members of our family as I am from her. I’m in the center of 7 generations of people I have known. Baby Warren and Alanna will hopefully know me better than I knew Amy Teresa, because distance is on our side. And I hope when I go, they’ll remember love.

I never met seven great grandparents. They were gone before. And surely many great grandchildren won’t meet me. But I am sure that the love will be there anyway.

When we feel alone, it’s good to know and remember that only time and mortality separate us from many who love us, in generations beyond those we know or remember or anticipate. Families really are forever!

~Nita Smith