Remembering Time of Year

Memories are a funny thing, they can drag you d0wn memory lane kicking and screaming or they can fill your heart so full you think it might burst. Yesterday, Avery and I made a memory together as we stood in the kitchen making our favorite sugar cookie recipe. Avery told me that it just wasn't Christmas without them, so we set out to make them. We laughed and talked and made a memory. It was nice to pass on this recipe to her, and share her excitement in baking the cookies. Someday this cookie recipe will be a story for her family and maybe even her family's family. Life goes on.

 My heart is tender right now as I remember the year my Dad made my daughter Ashleigh a beautiful twin size bed. He worked long hours in his wood shop working his magic and building a beautiful "down bed" for Ashleigh. You see when I bought my first home (my mobile home) it had a loft bed built into Ashleigh's bedroom. As Ashleigh got older she began wanting a "down bed", something that was on the floor and not in the air, something more like what her friends had. My Dad decided to make her dream come true. I was opposed at first, I was young (stupid) and bullheaded and I felt like my Dad was pushing me to do something his way. As time went on though, I knew that his hard work was a labor of love for Ashleigh. The day my Dad brought the bed, Ashleigh was so excited and happy. I have stored that Memory away.

Along with the bed, my Dad built a small table for Ashleigh to keep by her bed. Recently I have had this table in our family room, using it as a side table to my sofa and chair. As Mark and I have been making small changes in our family room, I had started to notice that the table stood out, it is the wrong color wood. When I mentioned this to Mark yesterday he suggested that we stain it a different color. For some reason this has upset me. I feel like if we change the color I will be dishonoring my Dad's memory and hard work. I am suddenly missing my Dad.
 My sister mentioned the other day how hard it will be on Christmas Eve. Every year my Dad would Federal Express packages to all of us with Christmas cards and gift cards in them. Even though his life was full with his company and my Mom, he remembered each and every one of us and our children. It was a tradition that we all laughed at, but we will miss.

 We learn each day in small ways how to move forward. We toss out a worn out loved pair of socks, or eat the very last treasured Christmas cookie, or we contemplate making changes in our lives and traditions. The world keeps going; our alarm clock still goes off and as my Dad use to say, "You just keep picking 'em up and putting 'em down". It is a remembering time of year, you make memories, you change memories and you remember, it's just not Christmas without that.