When you think back on your childhood are you met with an abundance of memories readily waiting for you to zone in on them, all eager to flow to the forefront of your mind and wrap you comfortably in a blanket of nostalgia?
With another summer coming to an end, and another school year about to commence, my three babies another year older, and not so much babies anymore, I can't help but wonder what they'll remember as the years go on?
It's hard to say, but I must admit I surprised myself when I took the time to sit down and really think about this, sometimes it can be almost too easy to get wrapped up in materialistic stuff, the big presents, the latest toys, the cool clothes and yada, yada, yada - you get my drift..
Sometimes, it's easy to forget that those things are really not important at all in the grand scheme of things.
I can't say if they'll remember all the toys, clothes and stuff. That's the word I was looking for - "stuff". I'd like to think that the actual physical "stuff" will be irrelevant to them in time to come, but the "stuff" I hope will stay with them, ensconced on their brains and engraved in their hearts, are those memories, the ones forever there, the ones that come through song, scent, people, places and moments of reminiscing, the ones that erupt feelings of warmth, of happiness, of safety, of sureness.
Of love.
Of this time.
This precious time.
Of home.
Of us.
I hope they remember the warm, sunny evenings, swimming in the pool, jumping in the trampoline, making up dances together and trying and failing to teach me to cartwheel, much to their amusement,
I hope they remember their daddy teaching them to ride their bikes, doing laps of the garden and all of us cheering them on, even the dogs not leaving their sides,
I hope they remember Sundays with their cousins playing football and making brownies with their nanny,
I hope they remember the way I can't help but twirl their hairs or tickle their backs when we sit together,
I hope they remember sitting around the table, the radio on in the background, playing all their favourite songs encouraging them to sing along whilst they draw, colour or paint, with the scent of dinner cooking and me humming,
I hope they remember our discos, music blaring, moves like jagger and laughing so hard we cried,
I hope they remember our beach days, our zoo days, our holidays from home not caring where we are just enveloping ourselves in time with eachother, the tears and the tantrums and the laughter and the love.
I hope they remember our butterfly kisses, or the way I can't help but swoop them into my arms to nuzzle their necks and kiss their cheeks even though they're trying to tell me a "very important story", and they have to remind me to concentrate,
I hope they remember the feelings. The ones that hit when they're least expected. Like when its just a normal Monday and all 5 of us sit down to dinner and there's stories and laughter and suddenly nothing feels normal anymore, everything feels warm, and in that moment, we have something together, something that's just that little bit, extraordinary.
I hope they remember the way their daddy looks at me. The way we laugh even when everything's gone to shit. I hope they remember him lifting me and twirling me around the kitchen or garden, while they dance and cartwheel around us.
I hope they remember our nightly routine of stories and prayers, kisses and hugs.
There's so much I want them to remember, so much I want them to know. But mostly I hope that wherever they go and whenever they need a piece of home.
A piece of us.
I hope it's just a case of closing their eyes and suddenly they'll be wrapped in the warmth, they'll be enveloped into a wave that will take them straight out to the sea of memories that we've spent years carefully carving out together, some good, some bad but always with love at the forefront.
It's a feeling, you see.
Those are best memories, the ones so strong you can feel that feeling you felt just then, in that moment, those feelings of warmth, of happiness, of safety, of sureness.
Of love.
Of this time.
This precious time.
Of home.
Of us.
