Friday, January 30, 2015

Memory boxes...

Today, my sister and I did a little bit of closet organizing for our Daddy. (Yes, I still call him Daddy because, well, he's my Daddy!). 

True to our normal "look, there's a squirrel selves", it wasn't long before we were sidetracked and giggling uncontrollably. 

Growing up, we had special birthday candles that came out each year for the annual pictures by our cakes. I don't recall them actually being burned for very long each year. In fact, what I do recall is taking a paring knife to mine each year to hack away to get it down to whatever current year. 

At the top of the closet were those cherished boxes. Such excitement!

What we found inside was a combination of sadness and confirmation of our birthday stories of late. No candles. That's okay, it's visual proof of the now undeniable truth that we no longer have birthdays and are not getting older. No more aging. You cannot have more birthdays without more special birthday candle!  Pretty simple and obvious, huh?

Digging around in a memory box offered a glimpse into our childhood personalities. I am choosing to deny, deny, deny any recollection or resemblance of or to that young girl. Ha!

(This was my sister' the P.S.)

And one of mine:

Feel safe in saying that I may have had a history of perhaps, not being very well behaved. (Then or now)

Good times...memories and the present:  precious and perfect just the way they are. 

1 comment:

  1. Parents never throw away stuff like that, I guess!



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