History. Where we have been. What we have done. What has made us who we are...I’ve been thinking a lot about history lately. My history. Marmie and I have reorganizing storage areas and sifting through our history. Old toys, baby clothes, school projects, and the like. Being an avid reader my whole life there are plenty of book boxes to go through as well. Seeing some of those old covers was like seeing an old friend again. Made my heart smile remembering how I would read and reread these old friends.
It has always been hard for me to get rid of things. It’s not like I’m a packrat, but inanimate objects seem to hold great significance even when they are rusted, or have curling pages and cobwebs. My Marmie is the perfect balance in that she values things but knows where to draw the line to keep from retaining the unnecessary. We make such a great team.
It’s hard to describe how seeing something I once played with, wore, or cherished can in an instant bring back all the happiness, the peace, the contentment of childhood. Keeping some of these things makes me feel like the past stays with me. Like it carries on. It’s beautiful to see my sister giving her old baby dolls to Sugar Pea to play with. She is so careful and says “Mommy’s special doll.” I pack some of these things away in hopes that one day I too can lay them in the outstretched hands of my Hope. To carry on the memories and to make new ones.
I know that it’s really not about the things themselves. It’s the people, the ones we cherish that count, that make those memories come to life. If I were to lose all of the “things” I would still be rich. Rich with the love and a wonderful mother and amazing friends.
The picture of the wooden rocking chair was a gift of love from a dear dear friend of mine. She started out as a co-worker, a mentor. She quickly became one of my dearest friends and a true part of my family. She has stayed with me through the thinnest of times, the darkest of times. An advocate for me, for my professional and personal path. She and her husband generously gave me the rocking chair that she herself rocked her two children to sleep in years ago.
It now sits proudly beside Hope’s crib. I prefer old rocking chairs. So much more personality. The nights she stayed up with her sick babies, the naps, the book readings. It has a history. A heart. I am honored and thankful to have it in my own baby’s room. To add to its history and story…I pray for many many hours of love, of closeness in its arms. Thanks dear friend for your sweetness and your commitment to my becoming a mommy.
