A look inside my head
It’s funny the things we do as parents.
I personally have a large box of various memorabilia spanning the lives of my two children. Awards, report cards, preschool handprint art. Each precious object holds a special place in my heart and makes me smile. Each conjures up memories of a simpler time when fingers were tiny and hugs were abundant.
I know how I feel when I see these things. But I’ve never really stopped to think of my parents doing the same thing, feeling the same way about seemingly meaningless scraps of paper.
My father passed away almost 3 months ago. My mom has been slowly going through his things. I know it’s been difficult for her. Yesterday, while looking for some tax information, she found a drawer where my dad had saved all the programs from my old piano recitals. Faded 30 year old pieces of paper–some of them made on a mimeograph machine if you can remember back that far–with my name and silly little pieces I played when I was a child. Gradually, my name made it further down the list to the end of the program (my teacher always had us play in order of age and ability). Eventually, mine was the last name on the program. The pieces progressed from things like “Indian Drum Song” to sonatas by Beethoven. Mom never knew he saved these things and she brought them to me.
I got very misty thinking that these things had meant enough to my dad that he kept them for so long. I had to wonder if, when watching his 18 year old daughter play her sonatas with skill and emotion, my dad didn’t see something like the picture above in his mind’s eye. His baby girl pounding on the piano with chubby little fingers. I can picture him smiling when he came across these programs in his drawer, thinking back on his “baby” with pride.
God I miss him ❤