Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Memories

Not a baby anymore!
"Granma, this reminds me of the time we were swinging side by side when I lived at my old house," said my eldest grandboy as we rocked back and forth on the swing set recently.  Like we were doing again, we had just sat, swinging and talking.  I remember it well - it is a sweet memory indeed, but I'm surprised HE remembered.  Bryce is eleven now, soon to be twelve, but he was three or four back then.  And his memory was spot on.  "Remember the time I was in the baby swing?" he continued.  We laughed.  Yes, I remember several times like that, but he was referring to a time that he was well past the age and size for an infant swing.

Bubbles at the kitchen sink
It's not the first time his memory has reached back further than a Granma has a right to expect.  I had shown him a picture of the two of us in the snow.  He recited how he threw snowballs at me and I threw some at him.  He was probably four at the time, so maybe he was old enough to remember by then.  Regardless, I like being locked into his brain.  I like that we both remember - with smiles all around.

Once, I was washing dishes when he commented on how he used to sit on the counter and play in the bubbles in the kitchen sink.  It was indeed a favorite game which we played often between his ages 18 and 30 months, or so.  I think that game stopped when he discovered he could swivel the head on the faucet and wash the entire kitchen...

So as we recently swung back and forth, discussing our memories, I asked him what is earliest memory was.  "It's kind of a silly memory," he confessed.  He remembered going with his mom and her friend, whose name he doesn't remember, to a school.  He thinks he was about two at the time.  I told him my earliest memory of standing on a couch, looking out a window and watching butterflies in the bushes outside.  "It's like you only remember good things," he commented.

Early snowball fights
Oh, how I wish that to be true!  Sunshine and puppies and Granma kisses (I'm arrogant enough to include myself in that list).  And yet, sometimes it is the hard memories that shape us the most.  Hard doesn't mean bad, necessarily.  Sometimes 'hard' makes us strong, with a strength that comes no other way than to be stretched where we don't dare to go otherwise.  Bryce and I have shared some of those times, too - when the set our jaws said as much as the words we shared and when frustration leaked from our eyes.  I remember those times, as I imagine he does as well.  They haven't made their way to swing set conversations, at least not yet, though I would welcome that discussion, too.  It's a real life, a good life, a relationship that I treasure always.

Whatever else you remember, Bryce, always remember how much you are loved.  Nothing, nothing will ever change that.  And that is a good memory - past, present and future.

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