I was stunned this week, during a walk, to bump into a member of a family I had not seen in years. Throughout high school I had looked after this kind British brood’s baby (and then babies) and loved watching their littles grow into toddlers and preschoolers; but we lost touch once I went to college.

In a full-circle moment, I agreed to house sit and have been struck by memories of this part of my childhood. More than twenty years ago I sat in the spot where I type, watching news about Princess Diana’s passing on television and, now, the world is, of course, processing the loss of her mother-in-law, the queen.

At the time of the earlier event, I knew very little about the royal family, really, and was much more focused on the culture – and country – with which I identified. Particularly as a person from Plymouth, Massachusetts, I have very often considered my history as being distinctly American, and I still do; although, I gave deeper thought to this given the synchronicity of these news events and the fact that they both coincided with opportunities to help a British family.

This incidentally was my view looking down from my computer today (I call it “When You Sit Down to Do Some Work While House Sitting, But the Dogs Are Too Adorable.”)

When the Pilgrims landed in Plymouth Harbor, my family was still abroad, of course. (And as recently as World War I, my Londoner great-grandfather was fighting for the Allies, surviving torpedo after torpedo as a commodore.) Though I have always greatly respected the enormity of his service (and that of my grandfathers, who both fought for the United States in the Second World War), my appreciation has begun to grow even more.

While it is an overly simplistic metaphor, like both the temporary stilts & permanent piles that allow us to rest, to play, and to generally live in safety along the shore, the stability that historical and modern governmental structures have provided, and the loads they’ve born, do very much deserve to be greatly appreciated and acknowledged. Often.