Sixteen Candles

Last weekend I had the delight to join in a once in a life time experience. 

I got to hang out with our granddaughter Avery and join in the celebration of her 16th birthday! 

After birthday cake for breakfast, 16 year old Avery, her mom (my daughter) and Grandma - three generations - headed out for the day. We ate. We shopped. Thankfully we have all inherited the same 'short' shopping time limit. 

The list of 16th birthday events began with ear piercings. An appointment was made. We arrived on time. The piercing apparatus appeared, the spots marked, and Big Ouch, more holes were created. Thankfully in her ears and no other body parts. New studs were installed and the 16 year old left with a smile. 

According to my journal, I was 16 when I got my first and only piercing. This was not Avery’s first and I expect it will not be her last. 

Next on the day’s list - shopping for something described as ‘professionally casual.’ An important detail as Avery was booked for a job interview with one of the local coffee outlets. 

Now this is where the generation gap appears. 

Words like “That’s kinda grandma-ish”

“It’s nice… maybe something Grandma would wear,” was the response as articles of clothing were held up for examination. 

I guess that applies to me… “Something Grandma should wear!” I’ll own it! 

Final stop, Avery’s happy place - a book store where we could wander at hearts content. Or sit in the corner, sip a coffee and people watch. 

Watching Avery, I realize that both the past and future are alive in us.  I saw my mother appear in Avery and her mom as generations hold tight those family traits. 

At a recent webinar featuring indigenous story teller Julie Pelllister-Lush, 

Mi'kmaq Storyteller of Prince Edward Island, Julie shared a wonderful indigenous creation myth that expanded my imagination on the symbolism of creatures and creation. Julie’s gentle style and story telling presence is captivating. She explained how important it is to know where we come from… which is one of the many losses experienced by residential school survivors. Being taken from their homes, many never had the opportunity to hear someone say, "I remember the day you were born." “I remember when you were six, seven, sixteen.” "I remember you skating on the pond." "I remember the day we baked cookies." "I remember ... " 

Julie’s story reminded me how important it is that we tell the stories of our lives. That we tell our children, grandchildren and niblings who they are. So I did. 

I told Avery about the day she was born. About the mountains of snow in Ottawa. How a neighbour and Air Canada employee, changed my flight tickets when word came that Avery was on her way a few days earlier than expected. I told her how we headed out to the Saint John airport only to realize, that with the change of flights, I was to fly out of Fredericton. I told her about love at first sight. I told her about how I locked myself out of their home on a cold January morning with two dogs under my arms and much more.  

I don’t know about you. My grandchildren were more interested about their roots when they were five, six and seven. Now at 16 Grandmas are not the centre of their world. Just as it should be. My journal reminds me how at 16 other things filled my imagination. It wasn’t, “Who am I.” Much more energy was spent figuring out, “Who’s a cute date.”

As I reflect on being 16, I give thanks for the gift of memory. I give thanks for hope for the future as I witness the strengths of the past embodied in the next generation. 

Sixteen gives me hope. And I pray that I will be a good ancestor. 

What about you? What do you remember about being 16?