Your history folds over onto itself, layer by layer. Here’s one such instance in my life from this past weekend.

We had dinner plans at another family’s house. They’ve friends of our two daughters and ourselves. I had to drive separately and arrived about five minutes ahead of my wife, our two girls, and my mother-in-law. I was seated at a kitchen table when they walked into the family’s living room, our youngest daughter, age nearly three, saw me. She ran toward me as hard as she could with a big smile, open arms, and a laugh of pure love.

In that instant, I flashed back to when I would drive our oldest daughter to the airport and together we would pick up my wife’s mom. The oldest girl was about four or five at the time and then our only child. Whenever she caught sight of her grandmother coming down the ramp from the airplane, she would throw open her arms, smile widely, and run towards her with a laugh of pure love. I’ll never forget watching this scene as well as the faces of other people watching the same thing.

Two runs. My history on top of my history. I’ll wager you an adult beverage that there will be other memorable runs in my future. The River rolls on.