The things that define us.

 I walked to school in elementary and maybe in grade 3, or even as late as grade 6 I walked to school and home with a backpack that looked like it was a panda bear on my back... and it was the one wearing the backpack.  

It seems to me that some of these treasures are a physical representation of memories.  I was complimented about that backpack.  We were poor and spending money on frivolities was unheard of.  Today I absolutely do not agree with spending as a way to show love but I do acknowledge that people have 'love languages' and that everyone's love language isn't hugs like mine is.

My love language is cooking.  My love language is gifts.  My love language is service.  I've heard these things said but they don't really register with me because of course, there is nothing that says you are important to me... like the feeling of two people hugging and being safe from everything outside of that hug.

I was just cleaning up my loading/tools/gun room and deciding what is garbage and what needs to be stored for 12 months, and what needs to stay out and available.  I found this backpack in the corner-corner-corner of the room. 

Just sitting with myself trying to understand need, want, use, and function.  Betty asked if she could use it for school and both girls agree that it is amazing.  Instead of using it and consuming it with use I decided to say that it should go to the 'dress up' or 'tickle trunk' that is Artas wedding hutch at 2427 that now acts as a home for haloween clothing and other fun things.

this spoon also acts as a moment in time that I need to capture.  I have no idea how this spoon still hasn't been lost but it is currently being used in the house.  years and years now.  it continues to be in our cutlery draw and every day that I use it I think about how I was given this spoon so that I'd stop asking for a dog.  A lovely spoon that has a little boy and his dog on it.  I hope that it sticks around forever.

These articles do remind me of the briefcase that smelt of the burned down garage.  The one with important post cards from Doral Pilling that had never been used.  Many things I've seen that were important to keep.

Passing back into my photos of 2020 and earlier was a bit hard.  Looking for this photo of Arta's grades sent me past lots of beautiful and tender places.  It was hard to keep the string of this thought alive.  I almost got sent in different directions in terms of the thought and sentiment that I was trying to hold onto.

So is it a photo of Arta as a child, a record of her spectacular grades?  Proof that you are smart, proof that you have worth.   Maybe thats not the idea at all.  As I'm having Micheal put out all of my medals and he is praising me for how many medals I received, I wonder if the idea might be to hold onto these things so that you can show the next generation what is possible.  He gets to touch all of these medals and we get to talk together about what is possible and what happened in the past.

It's hard to know what are the important things to hold onto.  I held onto the 'box of shame' that I inherited from Catherine.  A box full of my medals and trophys and most cherished accomplishments.  A funny thing that it was easier to internalize shame to success then try to learn the appropriate amounts of pride to have and show about accomplishments.

I think that this was a record of the blessing given to Arta before I was born and a photo of her with me after I'd been birthed.

Although it's too many things, I hold the thousands and thousands of photos that I've taken as my precious thing.  I remind and say it to myself about once a year.  I say, these photos that are attached to my email address, these records are the gift that I intend to leave to my children when I'm gone.  And I've reminded myself and said it again just now.

Love to all,