Happy Tuesday, Friend!
Have I mentioned to you that I am a nostalgic person? Or am I sentimental? I have looked up definitions for each and what the difference is between the two, and I don’t know any more than when I started. Suffice it to say that I love looking back and thinking about days gone by—remembering them with sweet affection.
When I cook, I have one apron that I wear. (Did my sister make it for me?) It has huge pockets, and somehow or other, a little trinket has ended up in one of those monstrous pockets—and I decided to leave it there. It’s a little gold handbell pin that’s meant to go on the lapel or collar of a jacket. What is that doing in my apron pocket, you ask? I have no earthly idea. But somewhere during the years between 1999 and 2001, my daughter, Maria, would have received that little gold handbell as a result of playing handbells at her middle school. I don’t know how it ended up in my possession or in my apron pocket, but there it lies. Every time I cook, I stick my hand in that pocket and feel that tiny handbell. And remember a young teenaged girl that used to live here.
Recently, we had overnight guests. We have several empty bedrooms now where once there were little kids, then teenagers. When our friend came out of Teddy’s old bedroom the following day, she remarked that she loved falling asleep looking at the glow-in-the-dark monkeys on the ceiling. You see, when Teddy was a little boy, he was obsessed with monkeys. Remember those plush toy monkeys with long arms with Velcro on their hands? Teddy had a few of those and wore them around his neck like big, funny, furry necklaces. That room has since been converted from “Teddy’s room” to a guest room, but those monkeys never came down from the ceiling.
In Sean’s old room, there’s more glow-in-the-dark artwork on that ceiling. He has stars in the shape of a skateboard. Still there. He had a Murphy bed in his room for several years. We’ve since moved that from his old room to another room in the house. As a pre-teen, Sean had the hardest time falling asleep. Man, we tried everything we could think of to help him. One of my little attempts was to put a red heart on the board that went across the top of the Murphy bed so that when he lay in the bed and looked up, he saw that heart and knew how much I loved him. It’s still there.
We’ve lived in this house longer than we have lived anywhere. This summer, it will be 27 years. It’s not the only place our kids have lived, but it’s where the majority of their growing-up years occurred. Naturally, we have the little lines with the dates on their closet door frames, marking “how big they were getting.”
What’s the point of all this reminiscing? Answer: To remember with gratitude. I like to call these things “Magic Markers.”
Magic Markers are little bits and pieces of memories. They can take me back in an instant to when my kids were younger and still lived at home. They mark earlier times that I think of fondly. But most of all, they cause me to stop and realize how blessed I am.
Magic Markers don’t have to be physical objects. I have Magic Markers in my mind as well: The last time I saw my mom. Going fishing with my dad. My older sister reading to me at bedtime when I was little. (My favorite was a book called “That Barbara!” by Wilma Thompson.) Going to see the movie “Jaws” with my brother. I was 14, and he was 20 in 1976. It was my first “scary” movie, and I thought I was the coolest thing since sliced bread. (Sliced Wonder bread, of course.)
Oh, wait! Here’s one that contains both my brother and sister! My sister once knit a “nose-warmer” for me. It was a little “cap” that fit over my nose and tied around the back of my head to keep it on. It was a bit embarrassing. One day, as we were walking to the school bus stop mid-winter, we could see the bus arriving in the distance at the highway, and we still had a ways to go to get there. My brother grabbed one end of my scarf that was around my neck and ran! I had no choice but to get my feet moving and try to keep up. We made it, but I was exhausted by the time we climbed on the bus. (Let me mention here that my brother was a high school track star and could run like nobody’s business.)
These Magic Markers that are stored up in the walls of my home and the walls of my mind are priceless treasures. They remind me of how blessed my life has been—and is. They give me pause and give me opportunities to be grateful.
Not all markers are pleasant. Life isn’t always happy. There are hurtful words remembered, both those spoken to me and those I have wielded myself. There are plenty of dumb decisions I’ve made over the years, but hopefully, I’ve learned from them and can use those unpleasant markers for good from now on.
How about you? What are some of your Magic Markers? I’d love to hear about them.
I guess there’s nothing really “magic” about these things. But they stay wedged in pocket aprons, on ceilings, and in our memories. Perhaps the magic is the way we can look back and remember what we were feeling all those years ago.
We can smile in remembrance of the good ones, or we can remember the bad and make changes where changes are due.
As you go through this week, I hope you’ll look for the Magic Markers that arise and take a moment to give thanks.
Written with love – – Patti XOXO 
“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment
until it becomes a memory.”
Dr. Seuss