Our Boxes

Scrounging around upstairs, I found tupperware boxes that my Mom had set aside for each of us kids. Mine was filled with progress reports, pictures, birthday cards, letters, and drawings. I slowly went through the Camille box savoring the trip down memory lane.

Then I set my eyes upon my mother's box.

Yes, she has a box, too. And, even though I had permission to look, there is someting about looking at pictures of your pre-children parents that feels intrusive. I slowly sifted through my Mom's pictures: her as a little girl with a sheep that she raised for 4-H...Mom as a teenager with her brown hair set perfectly...Loralu as a young mother. It was incredible. I relished the resemblance- that there were many pictures of her that looked exactly like me. (Well, besides the fact that she is at least 20 pounds skinnier and has legs up to my armpits.)

I found love letters that my Dad had written for her when they were dating. I read cards that she received when I was born. It was a box of treasures. And then I realized that, one day, our kids will look through a box to see the life that Adam and I live right now. That our moments and days will be compounded into a tangible (and invisible, yes) legacy that our ancestors can browse.

And then I got dizzy because it felt like life was going by really quickly.

P.S. I will have to scan some of the aforementioned pictures in for the blog. They are awesome!