A Note on Memory Keeping

Oh me, oh my, where do I start? I’ve been putting off writing about our trip to Disney for many reasons, the most important of which is that so much happened, and I just don’t have the time to get it all down. But, as I told Trent on the way home from the airport, my purposes in writing this blog (or Twitter even) has changed so much in the past few years. Whereas this used to be a place for me to spew whatever nagging thoughts were swirling around in my brain, now I look at it as sort of a time capsule. I remember Gwen Bell saying once (on Twitter or her blog or the like) that she wished her mother had some sort of online journal or Twitter account. Her mom, who died when she was quite young, is somewhat of a mystery to her, and she wondered what her Twitter would say, what she would share with the world, and wishes she could peek into her private thoughts. Every time (well, almost) I write something here or anywhere online, I think of that. Of how someday my children will read this, and whether I’m still on this Earth or not, they will gain some insight into who I am as person, not just their mother. They can read my perspective, learn about things I was interested in, understand me so much better. Sure, there are things I don’t want them to know that they will probably learn here and elsewhere, but it’s all part of my truth, the person I am. And them seeing that I am a mere mortal, a person who makes mistakes and learns and grows is more important to me than sheltering them from said mistakes.

What I’m trying to get at, is although I have no time, and honestly, not much desire to chronicle our trip to Disney here, I know I have to. Lucy’s experience of this trip will be remembered through five year old eyes and ears, it will be muffled and selective. I want her to be able to read this in five or ten or twenty years and learn what she said the first time she saw the castle over the horizon or how she grinned while sitting on her dad’s shoulders or what she said as she met Cinderella for the first time. I want her to see her beautiful self through my eyes. So even though it may take forever to get it all down, and regardless of who will read it today, I need to write this story. For her. For Tate. So they can remember.


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