memories and slices

teacuppamela.pngIn the wintertime, the sun streams in our bedroom window… and it’s beautiful. Often, I’m transported back to another time — in my mind. When the sun streams in I’m reminded of the mornings in the weeks following the birth of Naomi – our ninth child, born on Christmas Day. I recall how I would have her there beside me, all snuggled up warm in the blankets and the glow of the sunshine filled the room. I try to remember the last time I carried her. I cannot. And I cannot remember. I should’ve said: I cannot remember carrying her or I cannot remember the last time I carried her or something like that. It was more than a slip to simply have said: I cannot remember. Truth is, more and more: I cannot remember. And then I see a photograph and a seeming flood of memories wash over me. What a precious gift she was – is.
So, I am trying to look at more photographs lately. I am trying to remember not to forget. But each day has its sweet images, its sweet moments… sweet memories in the making. And much as I’d like to just hang out in the never-never-land of long ago, I know the *be here now* is sweeter. It’s sweeter bcz it’s all those yesterdays that brought about today and were I to have to trade the yesterdays for a few todays, I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t want to give up any todays just to have a moment in the sun. If I did… then, I’d miss the beautiful pictures on the fridge… pictures of me by an artist never before showcased on the fridge gallery: granddaughter pictures. They hang alongside pictures coloured by another amazing artist – a grandson. There is still more art on the… wall… another grandson. Another Sharpie artist. I’ve had one of those before.

I guess that’s the good thing about a bunch of yesterday’s. They’ve taught me a lot. I’m not so surprised about things anymore and don’t fret about them so much, either. I’ve had Sharpie wall art on freshly painted walls before. Now’s not the first time and I’m guessing, not the last, either. So… in a day or so or whenever I get the inclination to do so, I’ll scrub and repaint. For now… it’s just more character for this old house. Wow… if these walls could talk… wait! they do! and they talk a lot!


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