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Showing posts from January, 2013

Things that Make Messes

Sometimes I wonder: if I don't share my experiences with anyone, if I don't journal about them or write them down, are they still valuable? So many moments don't make it to facebook. No one will ever know about them, and tomorrow I myself will forget the whirr of the hummingbirds coming to the feeder, the spiral of seagulls flying overhead that marks the winter months, the quiet moments between Phil and me, Lee cooing and whooping and nananaing.
My mom has a picture of me when I was little hammering open walnuts on the back porch. I used to think nostalgically about that picture. Now I think about who swept up the walnut shells and how long walnuts really kept me occupied. Did my mom have to check on me every five minutes? Did I ever hit my fingers with the hammer? What the picture shows is beautiful, but would it have been beautiful without the picture? Would anyone have noticed? And how much of my life do I not see because I don't take a picture or rather because I&…