It was Hillary's birthday, and she wanted to know if she'd passed the actual hour and minute of her birth already. I had to stop and think. It's been 20 years. I remember the scent of her baby head. The weight of her as they lay her on my arm for just a moment before whisking her away from me. But the "time of birth"? I wasn't sure.
And then I realized that I had it written down.
I had started a journal for Hillary while she was still in the womb. I wanted her to know what I was thinking and how I was feeling as I prepared for her. I wanted her to have her own life story. And I would record it for her until she was old enough to write it herself.
I dug through the closet and found the pink journal with yellowed pages. There it was...the whole story of her birth.
I smiled and kept reading.
The language was stilted and unfamiliar as I tried to describe to this new little human...a stranger to me...the events happening around her, the family members who loved her, her favorite toy, her first steps, her quirky habits. I think I was trying to convince her (and myself) that we were all going to be okay.
The years passed and I continued writing in her journal, and started one for Parker as soon as we knew he was coming.
And then I started this blog and continued recording their lives, including pictures and music.
And I'm SO glad I did.
I look back through these journals and blog entries and I smile at the sweet things I've forgotten. Stories are important. And I won't be here forever, but these stories can be.
I read a quote from a book today, "Are you living a life worth telling stories about?"
Our answer is YES!
What's yours?
1 comment:
Very much worth it! Remember when Hillary would tuck her shirt into her pants? Every time? She did that for a long time and no matter what kind of shirt or pants. She would even tuck in a sweat shirt! MIMI
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