the story keepers

We were talking about how I used to suck my thumb when I was younger {not sure why, but we were}.  "I did it for a really long time" I said.  "How long" he asked?   And I didn't know the answer.  I just always remember my mom telling me that it was a long time.  Longer than I ever should have been.  

Moms are the keeper of the stories.  

They know how old you were when you learned to ride a bike.  They know where they were standing when you were running up the stairs and knocked your two front teeth straight out.  They have all the details of the time you and your brothers rearranged every christmas ornament on the tree and when you were the accomplice when she moved your dads car at the park-n-ride.   

Moms know the stories behind the victories and the scars.

They remember the day she dropped you off at college and how she cried in the car on the way home because you were growing up so fast.  She was there the night your prom date picked you up.  She helped you get your car fixed when you had a fender bender in the parking lot, and cheered you on at every track and cross country meet.  

Recently I was trying to find out my exact birth time and no one in my family knew what it was.  It was then when I realized that so many of my childhood stories live with my mom.  She knew all the details and helped us all sort through the scattered memories we had.  

She used to joke about how I put out every pair of shoes for the Easter Bunny when I was younger.  We were only supposed to leave out one pair and the bunny would drop in a piece of candy, but I pulled them all out and lined them up neatly.  I am not even sure where this tradition came from but I do know if my mom was here today she would have the answer.  She would also know the exact time I was born and be able to tell me story of how it all happened.  I know it involved them being at a halloween party the night before and her waking up with clown make up still on, but that is all I know. Little bits and pieces of memories from when I was small.

The moments you live become embedded on your moms heart forever.  You are an extension of her and she remembers every tear, every smile, every heartbreak.  It is etched onto her heart forever and wherever she goes she carries it with her.  

Today is the two year anniversary of my mom's passing and I am trying to hold onto all the memories.  Laughing as our message in a bottle floated back to us again and again because we couldn't throw it out far enough.  Sitting on the beach chatting.  Arts & craft nights.  That one time she came to visit me and everything changed.  Her thoughtful gifts and home made seashell decorations.  Our trip to Brooklyn.  How proud she was cheering me on for the marathon.  There are so many memories and I do not want to let them fade.  


Catch all the memories you can if you still have the chance.  Ask to hear the stories over and over so they are forever etched onto your heart.  Listen deeply and jot them down.  And if you don't have the chance to hear them again replay the ones you have and hold them close.  

Life flashes by in the blink of an eye, but it is you memories that remind you of what made you who you are.  Hold onto these memories and savor them deeply.  

"Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory" ~ unknown