Paige in her Easter dress at our apartment looking down at a bug. She is 20 months old.
We lived in an apartment for a year in Austin, Texas before we moved into our house. This wasn’t our first time living in a different state from our parents, but Richard’s job made it a more permanent arrangement. Paige was my constant companion through that year of adjustment.
We made daily walks to the mailbox and this was the highlight of our day. I was writing to two brothers on missions and my grandmother was a faithful correspondent. I lived for the mail. Paige lived for the ducks we passed on our way to the mailboxes. We watched families of ducks hatch in the spring and grow to maturity.
I reflect on those times now and find that these memories hold my heart like it’s a sponge being wrung. Real feelings are associated with those simple moments. Last night I asked her if she remembered our walks, but she couldn’t. Did she remember the lake or the apartment? Did she remember our talks or the evenings we blew bubbles in the protected corridors between apartment buildings which allowed the bubbles to sail more gently? No, the memories were not there.
I know enough about child development to realize that infancy and early childhood are not about concrete memories, but the feelings of security and the affection of a parent are pivotal to many areas of development.
It still seems a little sad that she can’t remember those times, though. Perhaps I should look at those memories of motherhood as a personal gift from God, a reminder that small and simple acts are significant. For it seems that simple acts bring blessings for the giver long after the recipient ceases to need those gifts. These feelings and memories are my treasures, and they are uniquely mine because they were crafted with my own small acts of personal sacrifice and love. Perhaps these motherly acts were inspired by remnants of memories of my own mother’s forgotten acts kindness to me when I was a baby. In all things, it seems that God knows best how to nurture his children, and if it means forgetfulness for a while, then I will trust in that.