Twelve Pages

   Every year, when I take down my calendar and put up the new one, I like to take a few minutes to peruse the last twelve pages of the calendar. I flip through January and see visits with sledding and snowman building. The visits with sweet friends in February leads up to the beginning of spring fever and March seed picking. April sees the beginning of the local garden centers being restocked, the smell of dirt starts to come back as the ground starts to thaw. May shows a trip back home to Ohio and Kentucky, with little smiley faces leading up to the date I needed to leave. Birthdays in May and then birthdays in June, days of cake and cards with plans to celebrate. July celebrations of patriotic independence and summer days, complete with sunshine and sun block. August leads to school starting, school supply sales and the feel of autumn as a hint to be. September finds me counting down anxiously for an October trip to Florida. November and Thanksgiving fly by as Christmas is coming. I love looking back at the year and as I see dates marked out on my calendar of events, lunch plans, trips, birthdays, doctor and dentist appointments, I remember many different moments of the year.

   It is only then that I am ready to really close out that calendar, say good bye to 2010 and welcome 2011.

Goodbye Shoebox

     In my closet there are several shoeboxes, without shoes in them. Instead, they are stuffed full of cards, notes, comic strips, photos, and little mementos from over the years. Tickets torn in half from movies, programs from different shows, and a little confetti sit in boxes. Every once in a while, I pull them down out of the closet and go through them. Birthdays, special moments, and special people come back to me in memories. I remember friends that I have dearly loved and haven’t seen in years. I remember family that I haven’t seen in much too long and will not see again on this earth. Memories and melancholy and joy mix into together and live in those shoe boxes. Ribbons tie on some of the lids which are bulging and need some extra help.

     The shoeboxes are a reminder of what has been. I don’t live there now, I don’t even linger there very often. But, every once in a while I have a desire to see something from years ago and to remember the laughter, challenges, sweat, and plans that made up those days. Then, I put them away and say good bye to my shoeboxes. I say good-bye to what was and hello to what is and look forward to what could be.

Memories

Recently I had the privilege of attending a high school choir concert, and though I enjoyed it very much I found my mind wandering past the music and into my memories. I was remembering my own high school performances, with band- not choir. I was remembering the friends and laughter, inside jokes and camaraderie. Trips and competitions, stories and band parents, rehearsals before and after school…. As the seniors lined the stage in their choir robes and fabulous high heels (sorry guys, your shoes aren’t as catchy), I hoped that they took a moment to really take in the moment and form the memory. I have similar moments, standing looking at a crowd after a performance, looking over the band from the sidelines as we in the pit watched them practice the same moves over and over and over and over. Giggly moments where we tried so hard to remain straight faced and other times when our directors made us so mad, they were all part of the memory.

The choir did a great job, and I thank them for the music and the accompaniment as I journey down the lane.