oh, hello there!

I haven't forgotten about this space. It feels like too many memories are housed here to let it fade into the dark void of the internet. So today I'm back, and today I vow to make something more of this space. To not let it fade away, but to continue to document and store memories here.

I babysat today for two little boys who are good friends with my boys. They're a little bit older than my boys which makes them easy company. While they were inside taking a break from the sun and a lively game of kickball, the oldest boy went to the armoire and pulled out the photo books. We own a total of three photo books. I've created one for each of the last two summers, and Patrick gave me one for my 30th birthday. I watched over his shoulder as he flipped through the pages and answered his occasional questions. My boys grew interested too in these books that had been only collecting dust. It reminded me that memories are special and interesting and though time passes, the stories are still captivating and fresh. My desire was renewed to document memories and tuck them away as stories I can tell to my boys again and again as they grow older.

I suppose that's what brings me here. The desire to document memories, but also the desire to glean joy from them. The simple, ordinary pictures and stories that in the end tell the story of our lives. I've been in this mental holding pattern of sorts for a while now. Waiting until this or that happens and then I'll start writing because then I'll have a story to tell. But what I really want is to tell the story of today, the story of the mundane and the ordinary.  To look back and to see the threads that have all been stitched together to create the story of something more.

For now that looks pretty ordinary and very simple. It's long summer days, popsicles from the big freezer in the garage, kickball games with the neighborhood kids, walks with the dog, washing the dishes, tucking in to bed at night, reading a chapter or two from the book I can't put down, spreading on sunscreen, talking every day about choosing respectful words and all of the ordinary stuff other mama's are doing every day. None of it seems special or grand and none of it really is. But as my mom always reminds me, "you won't pass this way again". And so I choose to stop and remember my passing this way now.

Our summer so far, in pictures: