It's funny how the *seemingly* most random things can cause waves of nostalgia to wash over and nearly overwhelm a person.
Today this little rock took me back a decade.
Not so much for what it was.
Rather because of where it was...
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| btw, no hating or judgement on the condition of my dryer please. that baby sees more than your average use... |
It reminded me of days LONG gone by.
I'll let you read this post from nearly ten years ago as I go take care of the *sudden allergy attack* that has me all misty eyed...
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9.26.2010
Sunday Snapshot {Love letters}
Late the other night as I switched a load of clothes from the washer to the dryer, I heard a loud thunk as something dropped into the bottom of the basket. At first I got a bit excited as I thought I'd found some money. (Never mind that one thunk could at most mean a silver dollar).
The causal observer would think I was totally nuts be have smiled the way I did when I reached in and pulled out...
...a rock.
And then I went to add it to my ever growing collection.
A random assortment of rocks, berries, hickory nuts, leaves, sticks, caterpillar grass, clover, purple flowers from monkey grass... Things that to others could easily be classified as trash.
But when they come from my "free anna haf, awlmost four!" son, they aren't bits of refuse meant to be tossed aside immediately.
Rather, they are a collection of love letters, written before he has his alphabet mastered. Little bits of beauty in nature that catch his eye. And that he wants to share with me.
So when we take a walk, my pockets are often overflowing.
Originally I used to discourage him from handing me all these bits of wonder. I tried to push them back on him, saying things like, "Oh, that's a lovely rock. I wouldn't want to take it from you." But over time, I've developed a new attitude. These days I simply wear shorts with big pockets when we go walking so that I accept all my treasures and smile. After all, what fun is a treasure if you can't share it with someone you love?
Because one day, he'll be a little bit older. Other things ~ like perhaps soccer, girls, and schoolwork ~ will occupy his mind, and he'll cease finding wonder in a sparkly rock or a bright yellow buttercup, or a smooth stick. One day he will stop handing me these little love letters.
And since I never know which will be the last one, I smile and receive them while they still come. As if they were the most eloquent love letters ever written.
The causal observer would think I was totally nuts be have smiled the way I did when I reached in and pulled out...
...a rock.
And then I went to add it to my ever growing collection.
A random assortment of rocks, berries, hickory nuts, leaves, sticks, caterpillar grass, clover, purple flowers from monkey grass... Things that to others could easily be classified as trash.
But when they come from my "free anna haf, awlmost four!" son, they aren't bits of refuse meant to be tossed aside immediately.
Rather, they are a collection of love letters, written before he has his alphabet mastered. Little bits of beauty in nature that catch his eye. And that he wants to share with me.
So when we take a walk, my pockets are often overflowing.
Originally I used to discourage him from handing me all these bits of wonder. I tried to push them back on him, saying things like, "Oh, that's a lovely rock. I wouldn't want to take it from you." But over time, I've developed a new attitude. These days I simply wear shorts with big pockets when we go walking so that I accept all my treasures and smile. After all, what fun is a treasure if you can't share it with someone you love?
Because one day, he'll be a little bit older. Other things ~ like perhaps soccer, girls, and schoolwork ~ will occupy his mind, and he'll cease finding wonder in a sparkly rock or a bright yellow buttercup, or a smooth stick. One day he will stop handing me these little love letters.
And since I never know which will be the last one, I smile and receive them while they still come. As if they were the most eloquent love letters ever written.
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