The thread of my yesterdays

The act of hoarding is one of my signature traits. I am one of those people who squirrels away bits and pieces for no reason other than a guiding impulse to preserve something of a day gone by. For me, the storing of the inconsequential, what others might deem a throw-away item, feels like a rescue mission. By my actions I reclaim the essence of something I would not remember or otherwise relive.

This afternoon, I brought out a box - a memory box. This is one of many I've assembled over the years and, I also took out a journal - one in which I would sometimes paste things into. Inside both there were treasures galore. I thought I'd share a few with you if you like.

First up is an incontrovertible bit of piggish logic which amused me enough when I first saw it that I cut it out and kept it tacked to my office cork board for years.


What do you think? Is she or is she not 150% correct?

....................................................................................

Next, is a photograph of my mother at nineteen years of age. Two years after this picture was taken, she and my father would see me born. How young she was when she had me!

The photo below hers shows me. I was one year old in this one. My mother told me that the little pink overall had stripes (though you can't really tell by looking at the photo) and that she loved tying a ribbon around that little tuft of hair you see at the top of my head. Should I ever have a girl child, I am quite sure I will do the same to her. A little ribbon for a small tuft of hair.















....................................................................................

Next item in line is the only photo I have of a baby I carried who was never to be born. I know the son I now have would not exist if I had carried this baby to term but, logic has still not carved itself a place into the memory of my loss. This was my 10 millimeter baby.

....................................................................................

When I used to live in DC, I was an avid reader of the Washington Post. One of my favorite columnists in that paper was Caroline Hax. I read her not only because I consistently agreed with her sensible answers to the often tough questions she was asked but also, because I admired her for the burden of responsibility she took by counseling others. Advice given is often a double edged sword. Words meant with the best of intentions can sometimes bring about unexpected consequences. The poor girl featured in this particular column attempted to follow some counsel previously given by Carolyn (whether that advice was specifically meant for her is not clear) and it backfired quite horribly on her. This is Carolyn Hax's response. I underlined the sections that I personally recognize as truths about and essentials for a successful relationship - a partner that has your back, who treats you with kindness, loves both your graces and faults and, supports you when or how you need it most. No one should settle for anything less when seeking a companion for life. If this cutout reminds you of how things should be, then I am glad I've kept it all these years. Without further ado, Carolyn Hax... (click to enlarge)


....................................................................................

My sister-in-law has been planning her upcoming wedding celebration. By observing her go through her process, I have had the opportunity to revisit what I remember of mine which is unfortunately, quite little. The memory of the time and planning that led up to the actual marriage, I have mostly re-constructed through the mementos I had the presence of mind to keep, from the photographs that were taken plus the kind remembrances of those who shared the moment with my husband and I. I'm happy for example that I kept this menu of the meal for the wedding party because, though I put much effort in its selection I couldn't, to save my life, tell you what we ate. In fact, I tasted not a single morsel that whole evening. My husband and I spent our entire time circulating amongst the guests while a lifetime's worth of photos were being taken. Too bad, because on paper it looks as if it was delicious. Wish I had it all on a plate in front of me right now. I've told my sister-in-law that what most people will remember is a good party, any touching moments and bad food of course, everyone remembers if the food was bad. What do you remember most about your own wedding? The food, the music, the vows, the dancing?

....................................................................................

Lastly, I'll leave you with the translation of one of the many letters I've written to my son since he was born. It comes from a journal I filled up more quickly than I imagined I could. My friend Michelle sent it to me as a gift after his birth with a note urging me to write letters to him for when he was grown. Nothing special in this entry, just some little thoughts on a day long gone. If it strikes you as overly sappy, keep in mind that this was originally written in Spanish. Few languages lend themselves to sappiness as my maternal one does.

Saturday, May 28th, 2005

My little boy:
You are fast asleep in your rocker. You look like an angel. Who would believe that until 20 minutes ago you were crying as if there was not another soul besides you in this world. What a temper tantrum you had. Your father placed you on some cushions in an effort to calm you but you kicked and screamed so much we were afraid you would choke so I took you into my arms and held you for a little before settling you into the rocker. That seemed to please you better.

You are so small love but you've got the temper of a man full grown. In our private moments, your father and I joke over whose disposition you've inherited, his or mine? I have to confess that I think you get this penchant for losing it from me. Even so, I know that your sweetness and your propensity for laughter, that these traits, you also get from me.

I have only to make eyes at you or a funny noise and you immediately start to chortle love. Tickling you brings about the most delicious sounding gurgles. The little ant that went up your tummy has become your favorite game. I walk with my fingers up your rounded belly...

There was a little ant
she went searching for her camp
she walked here
she walked there,
and she tickles everywhere...

I can tell by your face that you are learning to anticipate the ant and her efforts to find her place.You also love the song. Really, there is very little I have to do to keep you amused my baby. That's because those eyes of yours look out to the world with rose colored glasses. May you remain like that for as long as your growing up can be delayed. What a delight you are my R___ jan jan. I love you with everything in me. You are the most important piece of my heart.

Tu Mami que te quiere.