Yesterday a child came out to wonder

The lightning bugs flashed in hot and humid early July evening as Wesley rolled and rolled in the tall grass of our unmowed lawn. His dash to the pond followed by this rolling was not enough to remove the smell of skunk from his fur. I sought a bucket as my wife gathered soap, baking soda, and vinegar to give him a bath.

Some of my earliest and dearest childhood memories were of lightning bugs, when our family would gather with some other family we were friends with and the adults would talk in the growing darkness as the kids chased brief flashes of light.

My fifty-third year has been filled with such reflections. I ran for State Representative and was a member of the 2013 Connecticut Health Foundations Health Leaders Fellowship program. Both of these adventures caused me to stop and spend time thinking about who I am and what really matters.

My mother died and I looked back over these fifty three trips around the sun. We sold the house I grew up in and sorted through the years of memories that had been stored there. I read through school assignments which reflected an angst about the world I lived in as a child.

In the middle of the night, Wesley barked. I woke up to see what it was and get him to quiet back down. He is now asleep, but I am not.

I look back over the past year. Miranda completed her Master's degree and published a book. Mairead completed her Bachelor's degree and is preparing to go spend a year in Japan. I never finished my degree and I hope that my daughters and I never stop learning.

It is quiet now. I hear the gentle whir of the refrigerator trying to keep the food cold, the ticking of the grandfather's clock as time creeps by, and in the distance, a bullfrog or two.

The circles continue to go round and round. I used to sing that song to my older daughters when I put them to bed at night. I used it as a framework for a piece I wrote about the birth of my youngest daughter.

My mother is now dead. The house I grew up in has been sold. Friends come and go and come again. This past weekend, I reconnected with a long time friend as we talked technology and trade. Yesterday, I hugged our Chief Medical Officer goodbye as she left CHC for the next great phase of her life.

Her friends, walking out of the health center with her, wiped away many a tear. Yet things will proceed at work and I have a strong sense that we will continue to cross paths.

John Donne wrote

Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,

Yet, to borrow from another poet, H.D., about 'perceiving the other-side of everything,', these connections, from childhood through our adult lives enrich us.

So the years spin by and now the boy is …

fifty four.

Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through.

So, as I set out on my fifty-fourth circle round our solar system, I take a moment to try and perceive the other-side of the brief flashes that enrich us.