By:By Shannon, Mesa, AZ
When I was a little girl, my favorite thing to do was to go and visit Grandma's house. Grandma's house, with it's big yard and garden provided endless adventure and fun. But what I enjoyed most at Grandma's house, was her photo albums.
She had one for each of her children. I loved to look through each, and my favorite was the one made especially for my dad. My dad is the greatest father in the entire world. I wanted to know everything about him and sitting with Grandma, listening to her tell stories as we turned the pages was something I could do for hours. There was the picture of him as a one-year-old, sucking his toes, the one where he was wearing his "Howdy Doody" cowboy hat, and another where he was leaning all the way out from his tree house, suspended by his foot and one hand. There were pictures of him with my great-grandparents, pictures of him on horses, playing at cowboys and Indians and pictures of him standing straight and proud in his boy scout uniform and all of them were precious to me.
When I was fifteen, Grandpa died and Grandma moved to a new house. The albums were tucked away and the enjoyable pastime of my younger years was replaced with teenage thoughts, worries and dreams. A few years ago, I asked Grandma where the photo albums were. She pulled out new albums, and as I turned the pages, my heart sank. The old albums were of the magnetic variety. Grandma had heard they were bad for her pictures, so she had ripped them out, one by one. Many of the pictures were torn. Almost every one was bent and crinkled. Some of my favorites were gone. Memories and pictures that should have lasted a lifetime and longer are no more.
My children love their grandpa. They have already built many memories with him. But they will never know the boy that he was, laughing in the sun, hanging from his treehouse, and grinning mischeviously for the camera. Those are pictures and images that are carried only in my mind and heart. That is why I scrapbook. I want my history and my children's history preserved. I look forward to many years of turning pages with my grandchildren, showing them the child their mother was and what their childhoods were all about.
Tomorrow at dMarie Daily: Precious Moments, by Shirley, St. Augustine, Florida