In a few minutes a chorus of snoring folks up and down the east coast will usher in my 34th birthday.

Last Tuesday I sat down and did a little scrapbooking with the kids.  This is not a task I enjoy, but I’ve got tons of pictures that need to be saved and the kids really get a kick out of looking at them.  Did I mention there were a ton of pictures?  So many, in fact, I must have been saving them for at least 17 years to amass them.  That’s half my life time.

I ran across one picture that made my heart stop.  Thank God the ICD is turned off.  It’s amazing what emotion a silly little photo can stir.  From 17 years ago.  Half my life.

 On a shelf in my closet there is a jewelry box that contains a small promise ring given as a gift to a young girl on her 17th birthday.  From half my life time ago, I cannot remember what the promise was.  I do recall that by Christmas of the same year, the promise was broken.  The ring was tucked away and the boy was never quite forgotten.

Seventeen is a horrible age to be so impressionable.  I wonder if 34 is any better.