Sunday, August 31, 2014


Slowly and methodically we are putting our home back together. We are hopeful that we are three weeks away from having our remodel 95% complete. Every single item in our home has been shifted from room to room to garage to porch to room at least once if not many times.

Youngest Son is playing Classic Rock off Pandora as he goes through his stuff. Oldies such as American Pie, Here Comes the Sun, Twist and Shout, Lean On Me, Let It Be and Don't Go Breaking My Heart drift through the house and lighten the mood. I ask Youngest Son if I can help him and he casually points to a pile of stuff he does not want anymore. I spot a green plastic container and I slowly lift the lid. My heart skips a tiny beat. It is a box of little boy treasures.

I look in the box and I am paralized. What do I do with this 12 year collection? I contemplate throwing it away. I cannot. That will have to happen on another day or another year or another decade but not today.

I hear Youngest Son singing the songs of his parents' youth while disposing of the relics of his early childhood. There is something profound, comforting and melancholic about this moment.
A box of rocks, arrowheads, shells, legos, fossils and sticks.
A new desk for Youngest Son as his sifts through books, boxes and belongings.

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