My Cup Runneth Over

Sometimes, the most unexpected experiences rock our world. Nearly ten years ago, my husband Jim and I moved to Wellesley site unseen. We had toured suburban neighborhoods in search of our future after realizing that houses in Cambridge were perhaps out of our reach. I had a couple simple requirements, I needed to be able to walk to Starbucks and a bookstore. Culture and caffeine, funny requirements in retrospect. We found a beautiful old home a stones throw from Wellesley Square and here we settled.
Flash forward, two kids and a few jobs later, we call this community home. Every year we have become more engaged. Our twin seven year olds are in the public school, we are members of a church, we have friendships that span nearly a decade, Jim coaches soccer and I even joined the Town Meeting, we are settled. I feel like we are a part of something, but it is not until tragedy strikes that the full force of community is exposed. What a joy.

This past Saturday, the father of one of our oldest Wellesley friends died suddenly of a heart attack. Texts and emails flew around until everyone in our circle was informed. A sadness hung in the air, but also a fullness. Yesterday, I attended the funeral with a few local mothers. I had not felt that sense of community since I left my established childhood community in Chicago. I looked around the room and saw people representing various stages of this family's life. It was beautiful.
Then, the eulogies began. The widow is a force. She was incredibly composed and grateful for the 45 years she shared with her husband. The three sons, including our dear friend, were articulate, grateful, and full of love. There were so many powerful and life affirming messages that I had to take notes when I got home. It was especially meaningful to share this with friends from our community. My life is richer for it.
Here are a few sentiments that really resonated and will help me to be a better mother, wife and friend:

It's not the years you live, but the life in your years.


We fail more because we try more, it's a numbers game.


My dad always told me I was a genius, and I believed him.

May we all inspire such wisdom and love. To my Wellesley family...

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