Papers of Life

Life has its passages and its papers and, though I spent a lot of my life thinking I was very unique, life has taught me how similar I am to everyone else. Look at my 'Certificate' from my wonderful helicopter ride. They didn't even put my name on it! If I want it personalized, I have to fill it in.

Everyone has a birth certificate of one kind or another. My original I received in a packet of things my mother had sorted out to give me. The tiny four-line entry of my newspaper birth announcement was there as well, yellowed and brittle. Both things were special to me as they took me back to the time of my bursting into the world. Surely the stars must have jumped and the world clock must have missed a beat on that amazing day? Why is there is no mention of such a cataclysm in the history books on my special day?

Since then I have collected many official papers. I still have my Grade Eight report card filled in by the hand of my special teacher. What it doesn't mention is the day he was teaching our class the Science lesson, talking about insects fertilizing eggs, and I stuck up my hand. "My Dad puts fertilizer on the field but I don't understand how insects can fertilize eggs." Mr. Smith glowed red and proceeded to explain what was meant by his terminology. His red face became mine as I realized I had stepped in a big one and the class laughed. I took some teasing on the playground at lunch, you can be sure!

My Marriage Certificate reminds me of a hot day in June, my groom literally dripping at the front of the church, me laughing the whole day, and my mom kissing me goodbye as we left on our honeymoon. Well, we didn't get away quite that easily as my brothers blocked the laneway with a tractor and wagon so that we couldn't get on the road. We sat in the sweltering car, windows rolled up and started to kiss each other in front of the masses outside our haven. When the windows started to steam, the wagon was cleared and we were on our way, Mr. and Mrs. at last.

And there are the mountains of photo albums neatly organized and holding our treasures for the last forty years. Many people in there are gone now but the memories still linger when we thumb our way through. I am planning to have those books to fondle in my old age when I can't get around anymore. Each time I look for a specific picture I am slowed to a crawl as I rediscover the memories of our lives so far. The pictures of our boy and our girl growing up mark out our lives and, like the height measurements penciled on the doorway in the basement, are things to be treasured more and more as time passes.

And so I think that I am not totally individual. Everyone has these mementos and everyone has their papers of life. Of course today many of our things are plastic cards in our wallets but still we all have them. We are born, we go to school, we play sports, we win trophies and awards--we step one life step to another, moving down a similar path to a sure end. So I guess I'm not unique. And yet, and yet...................