Shoebox Memories

Shoebox Memories

Dinner conversation with friends shifted when my friend Art commented that his parents and grandparents would store their photos in a shoebox they kept under the bed.  He knew eventually he would inherit those treasured photos one day.  “We don’t do that now,” he solemnly said.  “It’s all archived on the computer.”

He was right.  I said you just have to make a point of starting your own box for your kids – pick out photos you want to leave as lasting impressions. I thought of my own shoebox in my closet.  It was packed full of family photos.

I co-parented my sister’s kids for two years.  They were 5 and 10 – old enough to be impressionable.  That time of my life was one of the richest fertile periods because it gave me a new sense of family.  I was able to develop deeper ties with them – so much that I still rate phone calls on Mother’s Day.

One recent year I started a box for each of the kids.  I placed some of my favorite reads, photos, mementos that I felt might inspire them later in life.  When they visit, they go through the box and sometimes take a treasure.

As I age, I notice more how my words can impact a younger soul.  I read the other day that making a point to hold someone in compassion daily can lift the collective consciousness of our planet by 200%.  Imagine.

So I make a point to add to my own shoebox of memories.   There is something about touching each photo and holding it in my hand that gives me a sense of time and place –  unlike any memory found on a digital file.

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