Reminiscing

Yesterday my sister spent the afternoon at my parents' house looking through their boxes of old photos. As she perused, she periodically texted me pictures of the cutest photos you ever did see. Except for the photos of you when you were little, of course. Or the photos of your kids when they were little. No doubt those pictures are just as cute as these.

Here I am learning to ride a bike. As you can see, my sister's support and sending-off was an important part of me learning to ride a bike. All these years later I am so blessed to still have her and my dad's support as I wobble along.

My dad was a master story teller. I do not remember him using this furry puppet mitt to tell stories. But I do remember the stories he would tell at Christmas, as we all laid around the Christmas tree and gazed at its twinkling lights. I remember them so vividly I will tell them to my kids one day, if I God decides to give me kiddos.

My sister and I adored dressing up when we were little. Here my little sister is wearing one of our favorite dresses. Its twirling capabilities were fantastic.

This picture cracks me up. Our littlest brother, Marc, has just joined the family. He happened to be born on Rebecca's birthday. Rebecca is wearing her newest Cinderella gown (sewn by my ever-ingenious mama), Cinderella crown, and pink wig. Every Cinderella needs a pink wig. Aaron is talking. He was an expressive little guy. And I am gazing up at someone I appear to admire very much. Probably my mom.

Aaron thought my dad was just the greatest. He loved being near him. My dad tells a story of one afternoon when he got home early from work. As he walked through the front door, Aaron dropped what he was doing, ran to my dad, jumped in his arms, and exclaimed, "This is the best day of my life, Daddy!"

Rebecca has always been an artist. Here she is sketching a portrait of Marc. He must have been wiggling, and needed a steadying hand. Notice the intensity with which Rebecca is focused. Notice how you want to reach through this picture and squeeze little Marckie.

And here is Rebecca with one of our many pet snakes. I am not sure if this is the snake that escaped in the house (and couldn't be found for weeks), or the snake that escaped in the car (and couldn't be found for days), but I do know that we kissed this snake for kicks. We kissed all our pet snakes for kicks. Now, however, I will not touch a snake with a ten foot pole.

Rebecca, on the other hand, is a much braver soul than I.

Some things never change. And boy am I glad. Because I loved those little expressive, squirmy, artistic, daddy-loving, dressed up kids, and I love it when I see traces of them in my grown up siblings. 

Happy Monday, everyone! Hope you had a lovely Father's Day yesterday!

-Sarah

© by scj