A few of my favorite things- the gift of being sentimental
A few of my favorite things- the gift of being sentimental
I have always been sentimental about pretty much everything.
Lots of teasing comes along with that, in fact, my brother once said I must be the “most hyper-sentimental person on the planet”.
I’m okay with that. It used to hurt my feelings or leave me confused when people didn’t understand my passion for memory. For the preservation of story. What used to be something put out there as a flaw, is now recognized for what it truly is.
Being super sentimental is a gift, it my superpower.
It is sort of ironic that I go to the grocery store and call home to ask if anyone heard me say WHY I went there, yet I can remember an outfit I wore in 2nd grade.
Or how I swallowed a triangle magnet during nap time at kindergarten (clearly days gone by), or an itemized list of what fills my childhood memory box on the shelf.
Or how the dark stilled the house as Bonnie Tyler played on the radio, while light spilled from the kitchen as mom made dinner in the early 80’s, or Christmas!
Just ask me about any Christmas, I got the memories. Enough for everyone.
It is just “stuff”, and I agree.
The broken-down Holly Hobby jewelry box I just pulled out from 40 years ago to keep my paints in. The shoebox that holds a piece of field cotton and one Barbie high heel.
An Avon pin that used to hold perfume (and a glimpse of my dad’s penmanship scripting my name under the tissue).
The ceramic nameplate that used to adorn my door and now rest on my wall, and the endless folders of my children’s artwork, all treasures to me.
The silly Pee Wee’s playhouse coliforms from my teens on the shelf for my nieces to play with, or the original Boggle game from my childhood that I took from my mom’s garage sale pile years ago.
It has the paper pad from then inside, and my own daughter’s hands play it with delight.
The needlepoint of a treehouse my mom made for me that hung near my canopy bed that my dad worked hard to purchase.
Sure, these are just things, and not the things that matter most. But they ARE the things that prompt gratitude and hope and remembrance of struggle and triumph. They recall days of childhood dreams and adult perspectives.
They are pieces of history that pass on one woman’s love for her life and celebration of her people.
They recall days of childhood dreams and adult perspective. They are pieces of history that pass on one woman’s love for her life and celebration of her people.
They are pieces of history that pass on one woman’s love for her life and celebration of her people.
This is a gift, this sentimentality, and I am grateful for it. My sweet husband says he has nearly no memories of his childhood. He struggles to organize the years of our lives.
Thankfully, I remember. And I am honored to be the caretaker of our story.
Maybe no one in my family cares now, but someday they will. They too will ask questions about me, them, our ancestors, who we were, and where we came from.
And God willing, our albums and books will be there to tell them the moments that defined who we are, and how we started.
The gifts of a family are in the ordinary moments the mundane isn’t so much so, when we realize how quickly life passes.
Life is a gift to be remembered, so bring on the sentimentalism ♥. Who knows? Maybe being an HSP is connected to my sentimental journies? ALl I know for sure is, that same sentimentalism lets me love the world with all my heart. To celebrate what matters to YOU with the same enthusiasm.
Today I did a scrapbook page that reminds me of how important it is for us to somehow, someway, continue to tell the story.
This, is the story so far…
Your turn- do you feel attached to any special items? Leave a comment and share your memory!
