We finally gave in to recycling the old tube television in our bedroom and got ourselves a wall-mounted, smart TV.
For years, the old tube sat on a cabinet that we found in the basement of our New Hampshire townhouse, which we moved into when we married 25 years ago. It was a junky cabinet then; it creaked under the weight of the TV for 25 years; now it sits in front of our house with a FREE sign on it (if nobody has claimed it yet.)
When we opened the cabinet, which hadn’t been opened in years, we found a lot of dust, a stack of videos about Barney and CinderElmo and Scooby Doo, and five or six paper cards, all written (or drawn) by our then young kids. They were cards from Father’s Day and my husband’s 40th birthday, 11 years ago.
Two are shown above. One offering my husband 40 cupcakes and 40 balloons for his birthday, the other simply telling him how great he is.
When I showed them to him, we both oogled over the adorableness of our now almost-out-of-their-teenage-years daughters, and then he said something about how he didn’t get anything as cute from them on his 50th birthday (when they were 16 and 18 years old.)
I’m so glad I married a sap (don’t tell him I shared that with you), who doesn’t part with cards and pictures and Christmas lists from our children.
How often does one get to go back in time and remember the sweetness of their children when they were very young?
Not that they aren’t still sweet. But not the kind of sweet that would’ve drawn for me a card with 50 cupcakes and 50 balloons for my big birthday last year.
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