It’s why I scrapbook, really. Tonight (Monday) the kids had out all of the old scrapbooks and baby books. They were looking at the pictures, reading the stories, laughing at facial expressions, candid shots, and just reliving our lives through the lens of words on a page.
It was rewarding. Not one of them looked up all dewey-eyed and thanked me for taking the time to record such things, but the idea was there. The assurance that someday they could pull out a book and tell the story of us to their own children.
It really is all about the story. The why, the when, the where, the what, and the how. It doesn’t matter that some pages look like a sticker factory sneezed on them. Or that some pages were made entirely of scraps or freebies, in the case of digital.
It made me happy.
I need to focus more on the story.