The strangest things stick with me and become my most vivid memories. Like my freshman year of college, climbing the stairs to my fourth floor dorm room during a torrential rain storm and looking out the second story window to see that the security light mounted just below it made the raindrops look like needles of molten silver. Or hanging out the window at my parents' house to smoke a cigarette and lighting the filter end because I had no idea what I was doing. Or running around and around the trees in my front yard while the sun went down, knowing I was going to be forced inside and wishing the dusk would never deepen.
I would like to add this one: two nights ago, lying in bed with Mia listening to her new cd from Daddy, the first one where she requested "real" music. Mia had a handful of pretend ladybugs and I taught her to blow on them to make them fly away and then hold out her hand to let them come back. Those few minutes of blowing on our hands, staring with wonder towards the ceiling as our ladybugs flew away, and then gently catching them again so we could start again - I would like to remember that forever, please.
And this one: Owen nursing, holding my shirt, desperately tired and almost asleep, suddenly smiling just because he is happy and his life is good, and then sighing off to sleep with his cheek pressed against me. I'd like to keep that one too.
(P.S. Do any of you know who cut my grass today? A long shot, yes, but I don't know and Chris doesn't know, so I figure asking the internet makes as much sense as anything else. So, any thoughts?)