I’m not a crafty gal by any means but for Dessa’s first birthday I got my shit together and made an album with photographs of her first year of life – from the hospital to her birthday. It’s one of my favorite things because my memory is awful and I forget all the time how much she has changed. At night before bed she often begs to go through it. She points at familiar faces, calls out names she recalls and giggles here and there.
Tonight while we were flipping through I remembered how much I loved looking at old photo albums from when I was a baby. I found them fascinating. Each picture told a story of a time in my history I couldn’t remember. I would ask my parents over and over again to tell me what was going on in each picture. Who was who and what was what. What happened right before. What happened immediately after. What did I say. What did I do. They’d give me answers sometimes but I don’t think they understood how much I loved to know.
I got teary thinking that I was going to be able to capture so much of Dessa’s life for her to look at one day. She will one day ask me to tell her the who and what and how and why of her history. I feel so overwhelmed by that and wish I were a scrapbooker or something to that affect. I’m overwhelmed but honored at the same time – I get to bear witness to her whole life – past, present and future. I’m her historian. Oh, my chest is heavy with the responsibility but joyous at the same time.
I need ideas on how to capture her life for her. What do you do chronicle the lives of your little ones?