Writing every day.

Oh, how I'd love to do that.

To every day write something profound and witty and thought-provoking, maybe even grammatically correct. Something that makes people stop and think. Maybe it's something that makes people remember something about their past. Maybe something that makes people smile, or shake their heads in contempt.

Why don't I do that? Rather than list excuses everyone could use, I'll tell the truth. I'm not motivated enough to do it. Oh, but I would like to be.

I was talking to Erika today. She received some tragic news last night and is struggling to deal with it today. At lunchtime we drove around and ended up at a local park. The park is one of those very popular wooden castle/fort type parks. There were plenty of kids and moms there, doing what they do best. Fortunately for us, there are also a couple of benches just a short walk from there. We selected a bench in the shade, by a little stream. As we sat down, we heard church bells that signaled the noon hour. The weather had cooled a bit from yesterday, the humidity had dropped, the sun was out, and there was a lovely breeze. We watched the stream burble past us and wind around a corner and disappear under the road as we chatted.

As we soaked in our surroundings, a red (although I'm sure the manufacturer-named color is something like Fancy Pants Red Clear Coat Metallic) Chrysler PT Cruiser cruised passed. I commented on it and Ellyn said it reminded her of the 'cars' kids ride at the carnivals. Almost immediately I heard the sound of those cars in my head. Bee-dee-bee-dee-bee-dee. I saw the big flashing lights and the kids 'stuffed' two to a car, going 'round and 'round the "track." I laughed out loud and she smiled for the first time that lunch hour.

As a parent, there have been so many special moments and funny sayings that I tell myself I'll remember. I'm so wrong. Luckily, I've told Punkin stories to enough people, that some of them remember for me.

A few months ago, "gank-gum" used to mean "thank you", her favorite color was "boo" and way back when words were just beginning to creep into the noises she used to make, "da-doe" meant "gentle." "Daa-daa" has given way to "Daddy" and then "Dad." In the past few weeks, she's told me "No way!" "Leave me alone" and "I love you Mom."

She remembers, and talks about, things that happened as far back as a month or so ago. When did she become a little person with her own mind and her own way of expressing herself? I remember when she was just the little peanut in my arms spitting up formula into my sports bra. (note: v-neck sweaters aren't always a wise fashion choice for mothers)

I remember those summer days before summer jobs and drivers licenses. I walked or rode my bicycle everywhere. It didn't matter where I went, as long as I was home before dinner. I was all over the town I grew up in. The high school, the park district swimming pool, countless residential streets between the outskirts of town (where we lived) and downtown itself. The library was a favorite place of mine, too. I can't recall now the name of the department store that used to anchor the strip mall downtown. They just tore it down not too long ago, a year maybe two, or possibly three.

Of course, it's all different now. The drugstore where I had my first paying job is gone. Yeesh, I remember the mean old lady who used to run it. She sure didn't trust high school kids. Wanda was her name.

I remember Hubby once telling me, a loooonnnggg time ago, that he didn't regret anything he'd done in his life. It's all brought him to where he was at that moment.

I sit here and I think about where I am at this moment. It's true that every choice I've made has brought me to this place, and I don't regret where I am now. Not one bit. I remember where I used to be, and wish that I wouldn't have taken some of the detours I did. I'm here now, though. Everything up to this point is a memory.

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