Preserving Positivity

I was looking through old pictures the other day and found myself getting nostalgic. Where has the time gone?

late 2008

But, wait!

I shouldn’t be thinking that for another twenty years, right? I don’t even have any teenagers yet. I still have a kindergartener. But you know what? As I looked at those sweet baby faces from (not-so-many) years past, I couldn’t remember stuff.

I couldn’t remember that new baby smell they had. I couldn’t remember the high-pitched innocence of their voices. I couldn’t remember the funny names they gave everyday things. The good stuff; that’s what I couldn’t remember.

I can remember some things, though. I can remember the mountains of diapers. The trips to the ER, the fights, the sleepless nights, the crying. Those I can recall with near-perfect clarity. All the moments I’d rather forget are taking the place of things I’d give anything to remember.

And then I thought of an interview I’d seen. About the importance of preserving your story, in whatever form you choose. As I watched, I was struck how this type of history-keeping could be as much for myself as for others. After all, looking through those old pictures, I realized just how much I wanted to remember. And not just the negative things that seem to sear themselves so obstinately into the fabric of our past. No, I want to remember the joyous, everyday moments too. The ones that time often forgets.

late 2013

So from now on, as I write my family’s story, I will choose positivity. I will choose to remember the good. Will fighting and crying and hospital visits still exist? Without a doubt. And I’ll probably remember them just fine without writing them down. Instead, I want to record the beauty of my life, the things I’m too often inclined to overlook. Because life is beautiful and worth remembering.

Even an ordinary and chaotic one like mine.