It’s not time sections of our lives
But the intersections along the way
That are our true celebrations.
Anniversaries, the counting of time,
Are but surrogates for shaping experiences,
Encounters, by chance as much as plan,
With people and places and events.
At each crossing, we enter as one person
And depart as another, subtly changed.
I meet you and the meeting changes us both,
Just as other interactions will change me
And change you before we meet again.
We cling to sense of self, as well we must.
It is our basis, our individuality.
But if I’m me and you are you,
So are we as much living atlases,
Adding new geography to ourselves each day.
Some celebration of time may soon again
Be ours to stage or be thrust upon us,
And we will rise to the occasion.
We will look each other and see
Not just our arrivals, but how we got there,
We, the many versions of ourselves,
And the intersections that have made us us.