K took a couple of days off- a luxury we are not yet accustomed to, and we are spending our time together -- cleaning out the basement. Fascinating, I know.

It would appear that I have kept every sheet of paper my children ever touched - four boxes full. Big boxes. I have been through all of them and had an emotional breakdown. They have been distilled into one box.

But then I found the box of baby shoes.

I had sorted through the baby clothes yesterday --keeping handmade items and things I would consider relics. I also kept some things that would only have meaning to me. Someday I would like to make a little quilt of patches of the things that I remember...tiny hawaiian shirts, teeny boxer shorts. I have a list in my head of projects like this that may or may not ever be done.

When I found the baby shoes, I felt like I could just run them upstairs and see if they fit anyone. It was a strange disassociated feeling to think we are done with them. (My past and present tense are all mixed up here -- as they are in my head.) Why won't these boots fit Youngest?

I have decided to take a break and straighten up the house now. Fortunately K needs to go through ever sheet of paper that he ever touched.


Anonymous said…
Am still upset about said turkey but I'll get over it!
Please try to finish said quilt by T day.It could be quite the conversation "piece".(Get it?????)