Relics

 We're getting things ready for change around here. I'll update when it materializes.

In the meantime, there's stuff to do. I'm going through clothes, closets, trying to figure out what to donate, what's still getting worn, what's too big or too small...this is definitely not a preferred activity. 

The clearing out has been happening in stages. I get overwhelmed sometimes by the sheer volume of stuff that needs to be gone through.  My last epic purge was the garage; I packed the entire back of our van with our alley of broken dreams--all the stuff we optimistically purchased in hopes of our kids picking up or wanting to do x, y, and z.

I remember how hard that was.

Harder is going through things that younger might not be interested in NOW, but he'll be looking for it in 6 months, a year, a decade...

And sorting out the stuff that I think needs to be saved: the hoodie from cross country track with his last name emblazoned across the back (which elder hasn't worn since that season; I'm wearing it, now). Younger has jackets from his activities with his name and year on them (neither of which he wears--I do, because they are there and someone needs to wear them). Which leads me to a little reflection on how we parents remember things versus how our kids remember things.

I remember pride that my boys were a part of something that merited their names going on it.

They remember mom pushing them to do something that took them away from their screens.

But when I'm gone, what will they remember?

Maybe the bird. Maybe the class trips, or the classroom visitations. Maybe scouts. Maybe track, or PREP. Maybe the guest lectures. Or our impromptu road trips.

I hope, that when they are both reflecting on their lives that have gone by, that they have no regrets, that they gave everything they ever wanted their best shot. 

I don't necessarily want either of them to change the world; I just want them to make their worlds a good place for them to live in.