Tag: memory

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Pockets

Every time Emmy wears this cute little shirt with pockets in the front, she asks, “Have a piece of canny to put in my pocket?” One day, a couple of months ago, I gave her a little Tootsie Roll to put in her pocket. Even though that was the only time I gave her a piece of candy to put in her pocket, she always remembers and asks me for a piece when I dress her in the shirt with pockets. (That one time? The Tootsie Roll didn’t stay in its wrapper for very long, and soon ended up as a sticky, papery mess in her hands and mouth.)

Pockets have good things in them. Grandpas keep things like mints and gum for little ones to chew; Dads have spare change for the ice-cream truck. Mommies have tissues for little runny noses. Those small things tuck easily into a pocket and bring smiles when they appear. Or if not a smile, at least a “Thanks, Mom,” as the soiled tissue is returned to its giver.

Small things make me smile.

I remember my mom bringing me a small cup of milk to drink before I went to bed at night, because milk was good for my teeth.

I remember seeing my teeny tiny baby sister brought home from the hospital. I was eight, and I was afraid to hold her because I had a cold.

I remember seeing my husband smiling across the gym at me, a couple of weeks after we started dating. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

What small memories do you have tucked away that make you smile?

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The Smell of New Crayons

Since I have been neglecting my blog, here is a reprint of a post I wrote last year at this time, when the only family members read my writing.

Emmy’s bedroom window has a front view from our house. As I was rocking her this morning, sunlight filtered through the trees and the air was a lovely 65 degrees. A perfect day. I heard the unmistakable clop CLOP….clop CLOP of a wagon being pulled along the sidewalk. There were no kids in the wagon; it was piled high with backpacks and bags. The kids were skipping ahead of the parents, talking excitedly. It’s the first day of school.

Two photos come to mind. The first, a small girl with blond curls grinning, holding nothing, next to her big sister with a gap-toothed grin, heading off to kindergarten. I was holding a small shoe box full of school supplies. In the next photo, both of us have decorated shoe boxes. My sister has a huge grin, because this time she gets to go to school, too! It was 1976, so there was no preschool in our small town in rural Illinois; no pre-Kindergarten, no playdates, Mommy and me or dance classes. Just run outside and play; that’s what the other moms are telling their kids, too, and come when Mom yells out the door. Scramble down that pine tree you’re not supposed to climb, even though your sappy fingers give you away. Grab your bike and pedal down the gravel alley, and throw it down in the driveway. Use your kickstand!

Those little shoe boxes were so different from the huge bags and backpacks I saw on their way to school today. Was the first day of school more exciting for us? We didn’t have the same experiences of kids today. The first day of Kindergarten literally was the first day of school. Lily starts preschool in September, but she has already attended several park district classes, both with me and without me. I don’t anticipate tears for either of us; she has been eagerly awaiting preschool.

As I watched the kids heading off to school this morning, there was an excitement in the air. I think the first day of school, regardless of past experiences, still is exciting to kids. Parents still grab their cameras to take that shot, and I hope I remember to do the same in a couple of weeks.

I became very nostalgic for that first day this morning. I thought of the teachers in their classrooms, reading through their plans one more time, placing welcome notes on the students’ desks and feeling small butterflies, even if this is your umpteenth year of teaching. That’s how I always felt on the first day of school, even after a decade of being a teacher. Welcoming a brand new set of students is so fun and exciting. I always thought that the first day of school made being a teacher fresh every year.

My first classroom was a corner room with a lot of windows. I would open them wide in the morning, and it felt delicious to have the cool air waft in. The wooden floors creaked with every step I took as I prepared for class. I had real slate blackboards, with a couple of big cracks in the corners, but in otherwise good condition. There were cast iron radiators against the walls which overheated the room in winter, and melted the crayons which fell behind them onto the window sills. That building still stands, but a new school was built in the field to the east, and my old classroom is no longer used for its original purpose.

I love being a stay-at-home mom for now. But some day, that new box of chalk smell will be very welcome, and I hope I will get butterflies in my stomach again as I welcome twenty little classmates into my classroom, on the first day of school.