Over the past few days I have found myself speaking a lot about my mom. Sherry that is. It can be kind of confusing when I talk about her, because I have a mom now, and I have a mom then. A good friend of mine, Jodi, has told be that she can tell the difference when I talk about my moms, even when I don't say which mom I am talking about. That's something. But it's not the point.
The point is, it seems like I am entering the time of year that is most conducive to reminiscence.
Many of the memories I have of my mom (Sherry) seem to center around this time of year. For instance, Josh, the boys and I carved some pumpkins this year, and I insisted on toasting the seeds "cause mom and I did it and I loved it when I was little!".
Well, turns out, I sort of hate pumpkin seeds. The memory tastes better than the now.
As Jackson gets older and Noah becomes a more active (super active actually) part of our family, I find myself wanting to create the same memories that I have with my mom.
I hope that they grow up thinking that they like pumpkin seeds because what they really like is the special time we shared.
I hope they take their kids to KFC on Sunday after church, because you can't have a Sunday picnic in the park without chicken.
I hope they love fried cheese.
I hope that when they get to heaven, and meet my mom, they'll say, "I know you! You're just like my Mama."
And if I've done my job right, she'll say, "I know you! You're just like my girl."
11 years ago