a memory lane detour

I took a trip down Memory Lane last week. Not purposely.

It was the kind of Memory Lane trip you take when you’re avoiding doing what you’re supposed to be doing, that you really didn’t want to do. Anyway.

Yeah. That.

I couldn’t help it. I stumbled across a big HUGE folder, made to look like an art portfolio, and the ribbon was clearly tied carefully by small hands.

Since We haven’t had small hands in this house for many years, I obviously couldn’t help myself. It was like a shiny object screaming at me LOOK! LOOK! Only it was more valuable than a shiny object. Because I loved those small hands. So I had to take the trip.

The make-shift portfolio harbored my twenty-hang-on-while-I-grab-the-calculator… Three. Twenty-three. Year old son’s “best” art from the fourth grade.

This one was my favorite.

Screen Shot 2014-11-17 at 2.01.08 PM

Naked. People.

I thought this one was pretty awesome too.

He enjoyed freedom from chains…?

He could relate because…?

And then I became every cliché in The Book. I grabbed a box of Kleenex, and I started talking to the dogs (don’t judge, I was home alone)…

I can still picture that fun-loving, body-curious ten-going-on-thirty year old boy in my head like it was yesterday. I can’t believe it’s been thirteen years (I did THAT math in head) already.

Now he is all grown up and he knows what girls look like naked, and he doesn’t care about being free (uh, from chains).

The dogs stared at me. And then walked away.

And I never finished doing what I was supposed to be doing, that I really didn’t want to do. Anyway.

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