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Remembering to Remember
Last week I walked made my way up the stairs after a very long day. Mid-way up, I heard a couple brothers giggle-scramble to the shower, like I wouldn’t figure out that they had been goofing around rather than tending to their business. But as I ascended the last step, my ears were greeted by a different sound, the sweetest of sounds.
And I posted on FB. “I know few things that warm my heart like coming upstairs to hear the muffled sound of a 14 yo girl strumming Somewhere Over the Rainbow on her pink ukulele. Do you think she would mind me opening her door and joining in with singing? … Yeah, probably not a good idea.”
I thoroughly enjoy entering the picture with a rousing song, especially some impromptu harmony. My kids find me annoying. I like to think I’m making memories for them.
My friend Natalie commented on the FB share, 
On Wednesday last week, I called my mom to let her know I was running a tiny bit late. I instantly knew by her pause that something had happened. She forced words through a tight throat of stifled sobs, “Lucia didn’t wake up this morning.”
Sweet Lucia. One of my parents’ lifelong and dearest friends. The mother of one of my lifelong and dearest friends. In fact, our families crossed on three of each other’s four children. I never remember a time without the Waggoners in my life.
“She didn’t wake up,” my mom choked again. This time the dam holding back tears broke. She released a flood of sobs, deep heartbroken, already missing her friend, sobs. Then she tried to quickly gather herself. We had a houseful of guests coming in less than an hour to have coffee with the wonderful Jim Daly from Focus on the Family. Bush Library 
Every morning on the way to school, we drive by a house that reminds me.
Two pink bucket swings (I imagine twin girls) hanging next to a lone yellow belt swing offer a detour down memory lane, reminding me that time flies – fast. I’m pretty sure it was just yesterday that I spent hour after hour in our front yard with neighbors and friends watching our kids play and planning our/their lives.
Those swings remind me – because sometimes in the midst of the ordinary; sometimes during difficult times or when I’m racing around or when I haven’t slept all night (on both ends, younger and older kids, sleep is deprived for one reason or another) … I forget. And I don’t want to forget. That time flies – especially when kids are involved.
Last week I attended a luncheon for moms, many of which had kids in eighth grade about to graduate 
You know some introspection is in order when:
… the day begins with a failed attempt to exercise. Nothing like walking out the door, making it to the end of the sidewalk, feeling some very light sprinkles hit your face (most likely the result of a cool breeze swaying the overhead tree and dislodging droplets left over from the previous night’s rain) and deciding to call it quits.
… the words, “Whatever you dish to me is coming right back your way” directed at her emotional 14-year-old cross a mother’s lips. Especially when the dishing is an immature sassy attitude that just might have included an extra dash of ignoring for good measure.
… a certain hand reaches in to grab a large handful of chips from an open Cool Ranch Dorito bag … because it’s open. And when said hand sneaks back for a couple more large grabs since the