The past few weeks we have been purging and downsizing our personal items. As we sort through memories and mess it is easy to reflect on our life the past seven years.
It is interesting to see things that were once so important that no longer hold a purpose for us. Whether we outgrew them (here's to you RocknPlay, and all the times you helped our baby sleep longer), or they just don't fit in our priorities (I'm talking to you half finished crafts).
Call it depression, call it perspective; but when a life is shortened or an ideal falls short the trivial seems to fall to the wayside.
Adam's ashes are still sitting in our glove compartment. I know they aren't him, but at the same time it is what we have left. I haven't figured out where to scatter them, so I leave them there as part of a memory to a song we used to sing about the wrong name for said compartment. We say hello whenever we open it, where he sits among extra napkins and proof of insurance.
We were supposed to take family pictures last month, but I couldn't bring myself to get in front of the camera. So our photographer chased our littles around instead.
Hazel turns two tomorrow, and I hate that I can't fully enjoy the celebration. I promise I am trying.
I suppose that can sum up most of my life right now; I promise, I am trying.