This little life we have is good. Visiting with friends I’ve known for over twenty years. Watching them play with their children. Watching them play with my child. Seeing our little ones form friendships just a few years shy of when we all met. The gratitude can be overwhelming.
Drawing hopskotch squares for my daughter on the same cement where I have jumped a million times. Watching my dad mow the lawn in the same meticulous pattern he’s followed for 30 years. Retracing PopPop’s footsteps through the freshly cut grass – that smell and the feel of soft earth under my feet can take me back in a second.
Adding new traditions we never even knew as my life unfolds in a different country and becomes my daughter’s new normal. Homemade scones and clotted cream for a British tea party in America. Listening to my baby reminisce about her time with Mormor and realizing these are her precious memories of time with her grandma. Not so different from my own yet a generation of separation.
Practicing soccer and softball in the side yard with Mama’s old sports equipment. Same soccer mates. Same old man pitching the ball. Fresh faced little girl just beginning to learn new skills.
These are the times; these are the snapshots I hope she will remember.