Heirloom

A few years ago I determined that I would age gracefully.  I decided that I would make it my goal to move through and among the stages of life with as peaceful and positive and forgiving of an attitude as I could muster.  I decided that I wouldn’t lament the wrinkles multiplying, or the age spots that are spreading, or the ways that my body used to move that takes just a bit more effort these days.  I decided that I would not long for days of the past but remember them, fondly, and look forward to the days ahead.

Today that determination was put to the test.

My baby…my still-1-year-old-for-another-23-days-but-who’s-counting baby said “bye bye!” to the crib that has furnished our home for almost 4 years.  We took out the screws that held together the heirloom that somehow comforted—and contained—10 years’ worth of babies in our family.  Six children slept there, and cried there, and babbled there, and searched for pacis and blankies and loveys inside the crib that was built by a father, by an uncle. 

The babies
siblings + cousins = lifelong friends

Today we set up a “big boy bed” for my baby who is still my baby even if he does not sleep in a crib.

This determination to age gracefully and move peacefully to this next stage of life…it’s tough.  But I will do it.  I will.  I will.  I will.

And I will also imprint the memories of this phase that is fading deep in my mind.

I will remember how it felt to lift his body up over the railings and lay him gently down, bottom first, then his head, tugging up the blanket, and making sure to tuck in his arms just so. And I will remember how large that crib seemed as it held his teeny-tiny newborn body, swaddled into an impossibly tight burrito. And how we found his “big” brother, who was younger than he is now, curled up, asleep, around that tiny baby burrito when he started to sleep in that crib.

I will remember how he called for Ma Ma!  Momee!  Momma! each time he woke up, even after he knew he could climb out on his own.  I will remember the excitement that shook his thick little body when he found out he could sleep in a big boy bed. I will remember the laughter as my two babies, two brothers, made their own memories, giggling their way to sleep.

I will remember that I cried because no matter how gracefully we embrace the changes in life, it is still a little sad to say goodbye to a phase that brought so much joy.  And I will remember that these tears are good for the soul.  Remembering our story is worthwhile.  It matters.  Never stop telling your stories.  I will remember that these tears are layered with anticipation about what lays ahead.  Because, though the road is uncertain, there is joy in the journey.