Snow. Ice. Bitter cold. We need a bit of summer warmth, so I’m flashing back today to June 2000, when my friend, Jacquie, and I gathered the kids and met up at Mystic Aquarium in upstate Connecticut.
It was a great day — being together, seeing the creatures (the beluga whales were a huge hit as I recall), having lunch on a picnic table outside.
This photo is tucked into one of Catherine’s memory boards; I spied it on Sunday after Jacquie and her youngest, Laura, headed back home after a weekend visit.
All four of them are grown up now — Kathryn a college graduate making her way in the grownup world; Catherine and Dominic a year apart in college; Laura enjoying her senior year of high school.
Last Saturday, I had the chance to see Laura soar and leap her way to a medal at a gymnastics meet in Stamford. She was the picture of poetry in motion, all muscle, skill and determination.
Afterward, though, I couldn’t help thinking about her and the other three in their younger years, eyeing the sharks, talking to the penguins and belting “Baby Beluga” at the top of their lungs,