May 25, 2015
Dear sentimental Kerry,
On the back of my car is a stick figure family acquired while we vacationed. Each family member smiles, eldest to youngest, with pets interspersed, we parents flanking the group. My husband’s figure looks military-straight, while dweeby me waves. Somehow, that seems an accurate description. However, a strange thing has happened. The real kids have grown, and of course, the glass stickers remain unchanged.
Our eldest son lives elsewhere now. He’s started a family of his own, and they no longer take vacations with us. The littlest is not a baby now. How did that happen, I wonder, when it wasn’t long ago that he joined the group? Heck, I still carry the baby weight from my pregnancy to prove it! My curly-haired blonde no longer wears braids and pigtails, and my other young ladies are adults in the eyes of the law.
The back of our car, therefore, serves as a time capsule, a moment of happiness clinging to a surface the same way I clutch my memories. I treasure thoughts of smiling faces and happy times together. As they grow, these most precious of experiences become less frequent, fading opportunities forgone by kids whose lives evolve to include family interaction less.
I imagine we should replace the chipping stick family whose white lines fade with exposure to the elements, but I haven’t the heart to do so. I’ll hold fast to their images as tangible proof of what was once a happy time.
Keep your chin up. This is all part of growing.
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Reblogged this on Allusionary Assembly and commented:
This is the latest sentimental bit the good folks at One Year Of Letters (www.oneyearofletters.com) published for me.