You have likely played with the timeless game Spirograph at some point in your lifetime. It was a staple in every home when I was growing in Levittown. For those unfamiliar, it was a drawing game that consisted of plastic templates of varying sizes.
There were two master templates shaped like donuts, which you would pin to the middle of a piece of paper attached to cardboard for stability. These templates were usually round (though some varied). Then, you would select a solid, round plastic piece with many little holes in it (there were many sizes to choose from, depending on how large or small you wanted your final product to be).
The holes were to put the tip of a colored pen into, which ultimately would create your design. My masterpieces would invariably resemble a flower, with a perfect hole in the center, which to me was just beautiful. The pen would never leave the paper, the design would be fluid and perfect.
The result? A thing of beauty. It occurred to me that this perfectly describes the events of my family’s past week. My mother turned 90, and we threw a huge surprise party for her.
Family and friends came from all over, including another continent and many U.S. states, to honor her.
As I sat in that room and looked around at the varied guests, it made me think of Spirograph. Here was my mom at the center of this masterpiece. She is the core, the center of all our lives.
Each petal is another person from her past, from her whole life, who, together, make up this.
