The longer we are a family, the more I notice the patterns and repetions, as well as the changes in our days. It is something to be savored to send a child off to college or stand with your husband, looking at the Christmas tree, knowing that you have done this together for 6, 11, 13...18 years. The small moments stack up too: soccer games, science fairs, and summer vacations. After time it becomes hard to distinguish the memories one from another.
Our annual leaf-collecting walk happened this weekend. Only three kids in tow left me feeling a tiny sense of sadness, thinking of years gone by, but the yellow sunshine and smiles and laughter kept my heart in the present moment, enjoying the people around me.
I made copies of this leaf identification sheet and gave each of the kids a ziploc bag to hold their finds, but I noticed that my 13 year-old son left his on the floor of the car. I guess he was trying to tell me that he is too old for things like this.
While we walked I noticed that he quickly took over as Aubry's helper, making sure that she was looking for the right shapes and colors, not wanting her to miss anything on the list. But it didn't escape my notice that he was also stuffing his own pockets full of leaves, collecting in his own way, on his own terms, making himself a part of our adventure. Too old for a ziploc bag and identification sheet, but not too old for collecting.
I smiled.
Craig and I collected too. Memories of another year. Our pockets are full, bursting almost, but we always find room for more. Our stash is ready to be retrieved and examined and relived at any time. We are collectors who will never complete our collection. There is always more to claim as our own.