Those were the days….

I made a terrible tactical error today.

I was well on the way to recovery this summer, well on the way. I was so over that whole     “postdepartum” thing, you know?  Empty nest syndrome? Pah!

I was doing really, really well.  Kayaking with friends, taking nice long dog walks.  Gardening, reading, going to the beach, enjoying quiet dinners with Paul.

Well on the way to recovery, that was me!

But, you see, one of my annual summer chores is to organize closets and deal with all the photos that have accumulated over the year.  I tell myself that I can’t do these things during the school year because I’m such a busy, busy lady!  I put chores like these off until the lovely, restful days of summer.

So this morning I gathered up a big pile of pictures, and a few photo albums. My thought was that there might be room in some of the albums for me to store the new pictures. Not very organized, I know, but at least its better than the old shoebox storage technique.

I grabbed the first album, popped it open, and fell into the abyss.

Like a punch to the chest.  Like falling off a ladder and landing hard.  I had the breath knocked right out of me.

There they were, my beautiful, smiling children, arms entwined, laughing at the camera.  Page after page of special moments: beach trips, camping trips, blueberry picking, amusement parks. Sunburned little noses, and gap toothed grins. Sun hats, baseball caps, visors and bike helmets.  Every happy summer moment of the past, captured in beautiful color, right there in my hands.

I leafed carefully through every page, remembering each special moment, each funny adventure.  I scanned most of the best pictures, saving them on line so that I will never lose them.  I cleaned out the closet, put the albums back, wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

It was just a setback, OK? Tomorrow I’ll be back on that cheery road to the future, on my way to full recovery.

Sure I will.

5 thoughts on “Those were the days….

  1. I have all my maternity and baby clothes in the attic and have shared them all with my sisters over the years. The taking them out of the attic and giving them to my sisters always gives me great joy, for they are the promise of new babies in the family and the clothing of my nieces and nephews. I feel honored and glad to help. However, when they give the clothes back, particularly the maternity and baby clothes, I am reduced to tears. I don’t want to put those clothes back in the attic, not knowing if they will be used again, not knowing if there will be another new baby for me to hold as the baby previously wearing those clothes has outgrown them. It’s sad, and pathetically, it takes months for me to move these clothes to the attic. The most recent baby in our family was born in November, and in March, her mother (my sister) gave me back the maternity clothes and more recently the 0-6 month sizes. They are all in my bedroom ready to climb the ladder into the attic. They are ready, I am not.


    • Oh, I get it!
      After Tim graduated from High School, I took a whole day, cleaned out my attic and donated all of my maternity clothes and baby blankets to a shelter for homeless families. I was sobbing as I handed over the bag to the lady there, who clearly thought I was a nut job!


  2. Hang in there!
    Focus on the joy at the lives they’re making for themselves.
    And look through the pictures for stories to embarass them with to their kids.


  3. Not only are you human, but you clearly a very loving mum. Actually I quite enjoy day’s like this when I can just have a sob to myself. As I’m now the only gal in the house now I do get some strange looks and they give me a bit of a wide berth, but that’s OK. I guess the emotion we feel pouring out of us in these times is a measure of how much we love our kids. How lucky are we!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s