Connecting the Years
In my daughter’s collection of doll clothes are a few items kept from my childhood.
This tiny embroidered dress is one of them; I can clearly remember dressing my own dolls in it when I was her age.
I’m happy I kept it. It somehow connects her childhood with mine, the years in between disappearing for a moment. It is also a connection of how many of the things I loved have become the things she loves.
This blanket appeared in the laundry after my daughter had cleaned her room.
There are memories tucked inside this blanket.
As I folded it, I was brought back eight and ten years ago, when my children were tiny babies wrapped in its folds. How is it possible that these years have passed so quickly? Surely it was only days ago that I was carrying infants home from the hospital, ready to begin our new lives as a family.
I can still feel these babies in my arms each time I hug my children, with each kiss goodnight.
We picked up a few vinyl records at the secondhand shop.
This is Queen.
Memories were revived and much discussion about the evolution of music ensued. Our children think we are ancient.
For us, though, it was not so long ago we were singing these songs, and it brings us back.
Since we’ve been in the process of planning our Disney trip, it has been inevitable that we talk about our first one.
So my sisters, our children, and our parents sat around and watched a slide show of our trip almost thirty years ago. (A slide show, to the kids’ fascination, that did not involve a computer.)
We reminisced about the rides, we giggled at the hairstyles and the clothes, and we discovered details we had long forgotten.
We will carry these memories with us as new ones are made.
Is there anything so nostalgic as a lemonade stand?
My daughter had been absolutely determined to have one. She made the sign, found the perfect lemon at the grocery store, even packed ice in a lunch box.
With the round kiddie table from my childhood and a couple of wooden chairs, she and her brother parked themselves at the end of the driveway. And waited.
I held my breath, hoping they would at least get one or two sales. It was a Wednesday afternoon (I could not talk her into waiting until the weekend). A few minutes went by, my children eyeing the cars passing them.
Then, it started. People stopped. They smiled and chatted and drank their lemonade.
Tackling the dusty boxes in the basement was not my idea of a good time.
Two days later, though, and it’s a task I appreciate having completed. Four garbage bags, 6 empty boxes, 3 bags of recycling, and 3 bags to give away. At times tedious and seemingly never-ending, it is now done.
An unexpected pleasure came from all this sorting, though: Reminiscing when I came across old photos, the kids’ early drawings, letters, even my old cameras.
Organizing allowed me to spend a few minutes with memories.