We all have them – a sudden powerful memory of a moment in time, often small and fleeting. It might be triggered by a song, a smell, a landmark, or an unexpected find of something familiar.
The accumulation of these small moments are what gives our lives texture. Perhaps that’s why they resonate so strongly when the memory is triggered.
I had one of those moments recently.
I’ve been on a bit of a cleaning frenzy lately and had dragged a box out of the basement that was full of old papers and tax returns dating back over 30 years. It was time for a purge.
Tucked into the box was a much smaller box with my handwriting on it dated May 1994. I remembered it well – it was Mother’s Day and the box was from my then 8-year-old son.
There is nothing that can warm a parent’s heart faster than the simple and innocent gesture of love demonstrated by their child.
Shortly after I found this box, we gathered as a family for Jordan’s 30th birthday. Of course I was excited to show him my unexpected find.
To my surprise, he remembered it well and he had a chuckle over his use of fractured grammar.
I don’t tend to hoard stuff (contrary to what a box of 30 year old tax returns might suggest) and a find like this is very unusual. Perhaps that’s what makes it so very special.
This is something I really like. My heart is full.