Tuesday, April 2, 2013

C is for Collecting Memories

I will be honest with you. The original title for this post was going to be C is for Cookie and I was going to share a giggly post on how a cookie can turn any day into a party in my classroom. But as with so many things in my life something happened today that compelled me to change the entire focus of today's post.
(Let me take a breath here, as that was one loooooong "free expression" sentence...okay...)
As  I as saying...
The whole cookie story, well, I promise I will share that one later. But this is what caused me to go off on a tangent.
(I hear 'ya..."get on with it woman!" Okay...)
As I was cleaning out my vehicle, shaking my head at the 394 little items of Road Trip Sustenance debris left by Glitterific Girl and B'Girl...
(one must have proper nutrition for a successful road tripping...Cheetos, gum, olives, water bottles...)

I heard the bark, bark, yip, yip, yip, of Chihuahuasaurus Rex and Elf Huntress alerting me to the arrival of the daily mail. I didn't pay much attention until I caught glimpse of that little blue bird on the outside of a  very large envelope. "What could it be? I didn't order anything. Ah perhaps GWH did." and I went about my business. When done, needless to say, I pulled out the mail. I noticed it was addressed to me.
(Yay! Happy dance all around...)
Fully expecting the item to be from my mother I started to open it until I noticed it wasn't from her. It was from a very dear friend who recently took a spontaneous adventure to India.
(I asked her to think of me and howl at one moon while she was there...)
 When I opened it out popped this...

A beautiful scarf from India, an invitation to her birthday party and pictures of her daughter and mine from years ago. I cried. I cried because with this a flood of memories came to me. Not only of these beautiful children, but of her and how much her friendship means to me. 
And I realized this...
From time to time I have collected pigs, bells, books. Oh lots of stuff. I often found myself losing interest and parting with them. This often shocked GWH who is an avid collector of what I labeled as mere "stuff". I never thought they were that important really.
 Until I saw this, this past weekend...
My niece Mariah with Piggy. When she was the same age as Glitterific Girl I gave her a pig from my collection.
And this...
Books that belonged to my Comadre who loved Diana Gabaldon as much as I did.
And this...
Little trinkets B'Girl asked if she could have one day when I was clearing out "stuff" I didn't think mattered to me anymore. But they obviously did to her.
And this...

Just a few of the rocks GWH and I collected on our excursions BK (Before Kids).
And as I looked around my house and reflected on what all this "stuff" meant to me I learned this...
The Lesson
Even though at the end of the day you may think all that "stuff" you collected as mementos is only important to you, look around and think again. All that "stuff" really does mean something if you share them and the stories with those you love and care about. 
But the most precious collections? Well, this past holiday I found this too...
That's me and my kindergarten buddy! As in we've been friends since kindergarten and I hadn't physically seen her in 24 years! 
(Yeah, ahem, since kindergarten...yeah sure that was only 24 years ago, you believe me I'm sure...did I happen to mention that another topic for C was going to be C is for Chasing Youth? As in I refuse to grow up!)


So, whattaya waiting for? Go Collect some memories! Or chase 'em. Whatever bakes your cookie!

Love, 

Teacher-Mom

5 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. I'm glad you liked it! Thanks for stopping by.

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  2. Happy A-Z April! thanks for visiting my blog...I like your C post...my username and email are "kteachermom,"- what grade do you teach?

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    Replies
    1. You're welcome! I teach Firsties and thank you too for stopping by! I'll be visiting you again!

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  3. This was a wonderful post! It's very important that we chase (or collect) those memories, and also that we help make new ones with our children.

    TaMara
    Tales of a Pee Dee Mama

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