So, in January of our oldest son’s Senior year, I started assembling a scrapbook of his photos for the family Graduation party. I scurried around, finding pictures here and there, and, in my usual analytical style, laid out a spreadsheet of important trips and milestones to catalog. Painstakingly, night after night, I worked on it and finally, after four months, I finished: two beautiful leather bound books that hardly got touched at his party.
Youngest graduates this month. Three days ago, I started assembling his scrapbook; no spreadsheet created as I spent most of the weekend just locating photos.
Panic threatened to settle in.
Why did I wait so long? I exclaimed.
What was I thinking? This is just too much!
But then, I had a little chat with myself: I slowed down, I lingered over those sweet baby cheeks and all those firsts I’d recorded along the way. I laughed at the Ninja forts made of blankets & dining room chairs and cried seeing how fast it’s flown past.
I stopped analyzing. I started enjoying.
Our baby graduates this month.
Perusing the photos has been cathartic; I’ve had many a “moment” but they’ve been by myself. This experience will allow me to host family and friends with ease. Can’t say the same for Hubbs. He can’t walk in the room without tearing up; maybe I should have him help me finish the scrapbook?
“You have to make mistakes to find out who you aren’t. You take the action, and the insight follows: You don’t think your way into becoming yourself.” — Anne Lamott