Ancient History

Blondie pulled out my old scrapbooks over the weekend. She loves reading the story of how her daddy and I met, even though she’s completely weirded out by all of the mushy love stuff. My college days fascinate her. She seems to have a strange admiration for that wilder, younger version of her mother.

She does not, however, admire my back-then style. Mommy, she asked, would you be offended if I told you that your clothes looked bad?

No, I replied. I agree that my clothes looked bad too. But that was just the style back then.

Back then? {I thought to myself.} Really?

It’s funny how this history still feels rather recent to me, like it was just a few years ago when I donned acid-wash jeans with zippers on the side and wore baggy sweatshirts over leggings.

And all of the fun trips and adventures her daddy and I enjoyed during the 5 years of marriage before she was born? It seems like just a few years ago.

But as she and her brothers gazed at those albums, I had a flashback of looking at my own parents’ high school and college yearbooks, of sprawling out on the blue carpet in our living room and studying their old photographs. And I remember trying to imagine them as young, thinking that all the girls in my mom’s high school already looked like moms with their Donna Reed dresses and short, bouffant hair styles.

And now, to Blondie and her brothers, that’s me.

It’s come full circle I guess and I don’t know where the time went.

I didn’t dress like Donna Reed and my bouffant hair style was a giant mess of spiral-curled, hair-sprayed goodness, but it might as well be ancient history to her, that time when I lived and fell in love and had a rich, full life, yet she was still years away from being conceived.

Watching them look at ancient us felt both crazy and okay. I sort of liked it actually.

Because there’s something about coming full circle that feels complete.

Unwrapped with Emily {Chatting at the Sky}

tuesdays unwrapped at cats


On a different note, I just want to thank all of you for the lovely comments and most gracious welcome as I shared my most recent post. I was scared. I woke up that morning with butterflies and fear, but y’all made it so much less scary. It was such a beautiful day for me. Thank you for letting me share my life with you: the good, the trivial, the ugly. In the writing, I have found expression and healing; in the sharing, I have found community and joy.

And thank you, sweet Emily, for the opportunity to write at the place where I’ve found such inspiration and resonance over the last two years.

Oh and if you read the All Systems Go post, I’ve worked up a few very “non-system-like” posts that are coming your way this week. : )


  1. says

    My kids love looking at our old scrapbooks too. They are fascinated by mom and dad at the beginning of their relationship. When dad “had hair” and mom was skinny.
    Makes all those scrapbooking moments worth it, doesn’t it.
    Bye the way…”We miss you guys! Hi little man!”
    Love julie

  2. says

    I read your guest post, and just wanted you to know that I commented there.

    you are real and real beautiful.

    and I’d say that your children know that and it allows them to lovingly and unconditionally make fun of .

  3. says

    loved this. so true. i’ve got some real doozies for my kids to see one day. the 70s look — thrifted — was “in” during my high school days. how cool we thought we were at the time …

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