My minimalist tendencies do not lend themselves well to sentiment. I collect, no, hoard, words and images, but when it comes to keepsakes or souvenirs or memory chests for Bee’s future? Eh.
And yet, Ken is a keepsaker, a protector of stuff, so thus, my purging attempts never get far and I’m often relegated to ridding our home of excess when he is away on a business trip. Me, the sole receiver of the high one gets from donating four unused bottles of sunscreen and a spare dog bed to the local thrift store.
Still, I see value in the way things shape our lives, the role they play, the time they stamp. Remember those purple sunglasses? we’ll say. She wore those everywhere!
And so, for posterity – a series. Our current time capsule, honoring the items that we love right now, honoring the items that mean something in this moment:
-She must wear socks to bed, always, and she is quick to remind us when we forget. These are in heavy rotation, currently.
-Our favorite naptime read is this, and it’s one we both enjoy, which is rare. It’s a darling story, one both mama and daughter can learn from.
–These have infiltrated our home, the obsession beginning shortly after she received them from an older playmate who had outgrown pretend play. She was gifted 39 – we counted – and we still have all 39. Can you believe it? We find them in our bed, in Bee’s bed, in the raisin jar. They have overcome. (I don’t hate them; they are tiny and don’t hurt my feet when stepped on.)
-I’m always surprised by the creatures Bee falls in love with. This, a tiny chick from her aunt and uncle – an Easter gift, a best pet, a forever friend she now sleeps with. Bernie has torn out both eyes and the chick’s legs have been sorely amputated by George, but Bee seems to have a soft spot for the forlorn.
-Pistachios, her favored snack. She sits on the counter, she cracks the easy ones, I crack the hard ones. Sometimes we draw families with the shells. Other times, when we mention her age, or her height, or the rate at which she’s growing, she will sadden over her lack of truest achievements: But I still can’t reach the pistachios.
-I’m still rising at 4:45am, a glorious hour, and sneaking out to the coffee shop before my crew wakes. Coffee and writing, first thing in the morning. This is a favored practice for me.
-Also, yoga. I am surprising myself a million times over.
–These sneakers are browned from daily use now that the weather is warming, and I don’t mind. They age gracefully, like leather, like wine, like grandmothers.
-Almost weekly, it is crock pot ribs and fried potatoes. Our whole trio loves it, and this hot sauce is the secret.
-My beauty routine often changes regularly, but this eyeliner has been a standby for a year, maybe two? It’s a nice subtle cat eye, and foolproof for the shakiest of hands.
-Last week, a haircut. It’s handsome, irregular, but I like it.
-His late night craving, always. On his bad days (rare), it takes only a grocery run and $10 frozen yogurt for a smile to appear.
-New glasses this year, and they’re these. He looks mighty professor-ish. I like that, too.
-Gardening is his latest passion, thanks to his planter box construction, our deck spruce-up and sunshine. We cannot be stopped – tomatoes, peppers, basil, peppermint, dill, thyme, oregano, what else? We’ll see what comes out.
-His four friends – The Gentlemen’s Society – a shuffleboard table, stereo and Rose’s Lime = late nights, full hearts.