Our place in the scheme of things

I had a big burphday party last week. It was a gala event with wonderful food, beloved people, and glorious weather. My mom came-- with Williamsburg Orange Cake-- and amazing people from near and far showered me with affection, books, and music. It was a delightful way to mark 33. The next Monday I thought I was on my way to spend 4 days in Phili with Mom. We were going to bake and apple pie, visit the traveling Frida exhibit, and faff about enjoying the spring weather. On Tuesday early I got the call from my Dad that Paw-Paw had passed away and I was flung headlong into an epic journey down the eastern seaboard to a tour of Louisiana.
The ritual of saying goodbye is important, and Paw-Paw's was heartfelt, partially Hebrew ( a language I am not sure he even knew or revered in life), and short. I was standing with J and A-- T was not in attendence-- looking around at a crowd of people who used to be the grown-ups in the family and I realized that J, A, and I are also the grown-ups in the family now. Like the inevidable motion of the most rhythmic order we moved up in the generational design that day. There were no children a generation younger than us there represented-- in fact none of my generational cohort have divided that way yet. And this was a realization I found notable as well.
Of course, upon return home, T and I had another one of those uncomftorable conversations about spawning. She is much more salmon-like than I, and seems to be quite drawn to the idea of returning to the proverbial grounds to make babbies. I, on the other hand, don't seem to have the slightest inclination whatsoever to do such a thing. Call me crazy-- but the idea of pregnancy and labor is as abhorent to me as becoming a stock-broker. And then there are diapers, toddler rages, outrageous child-care costs... i have real trouble seeing the positive here. This is a source of much constrenation between T and I-- and a conflict that I believe one day may become a grave problem. But for now we simply bump into it occasionally-- and as her biological clock ticks louder and louder each year I simply hope for flexibility of mind and open-heartedness to descend upon both of us.