It’s been a fun trip through yesteryear but the time has come to
burn some pages end this series and return to the office project derailed a week ago when I found The Box of Treasures. Letters, pictures, and scrapbooks are still scattered across the floor and I really need to get them picked up and put away before company comes for the weekend.
We have new memories to make.
Usually Five on Friday is the quickest post of the week to write but not this one. I couldn’t figure out how to neatly tie the last few entries together (you’re reading at least the
10th 11th 12th revision) and not turn each of them into 1,500 word dissertations. So I’ve erased everything and they are submitted without comment. Maybe one day, the words will come.
Today’s theme: What I Learned.
1. I lived some experiences that most kids don’t.
2. But I also had some very normal ones.
3. I snuck around and did things I shouldn’t have.
4. But I also did some things I should.
5. Most importantly, I loved (and was loved) well.
Have a nice day.
To my three sons,
It’s been almost thirty years since I last wrote in the book you’ll one day find in the attic. I’m still amused by what I thought was important, chastened by some of my less-than-mature emotions and behaviors, chagrined at my neediness and clinginess, but also proud to see glimpses of maturity as I tried, failed, and tried again. When you read it years from now, you’re going to see insecurity written all over the page. You know why?
Because being a teenager is hard.
Really, really hard.
You’re learning how to make your way in a big world and when you first start out, you get it wrong way more than you get it right. I promise that your mom wasn’t always a hot mess
though hot mess makes for good blog fodder. I had close friends and rich experiences mixed in with that healthy dose of struggle.
But guess what?
It’s part of growing up.
I wasn’t the only fiery, melodramatic girl in the world and if you meet one who says she never was, it’s only because she hasn’t yet found her old diary hidden in the attic. It’s stating the obvious when I say I didn’t do a stellar job of keeping my emotions in check; you are already doing better than I.
You inherited that from your dad.
And all God’s people said “Amen.”
You’re not “a thing” with anyone special just yet but you have started to casually mention a girl or two specifically by name so I know what’s just around the corner. After reading what I did, I’m going to do my level best to help you navigate the waters, knowing only you can hold the oars. I’ll try not to dismiss your tender feelings toward others as you grow; it’s tricky and hormones complicate everything but I do know that young love means something and sometimes it can be true. Tread carefully, cautiously, honestly and honorably.
There are other stories you will learn (the doozies are dog-eared, have fun), but I hope you can overlook the stupid stuff and see the one character trait of your mother that I hope remains true to the day I die: she was fiercely loyal to those she loved. Those friends she wrote of? Years later they, along with precious ones gathered in her college years, are still in her life and she loves them even more, this time in a healthy way, secure in who she is, deeply (so very deeply) appreciative for their shared experience.
Old memories and lifelong friends are priceless, boys.
A mis amigos y amigas desde infancia,
Gracias por compartir sus vidas conmigo.
Los quiero mucho.