Re-Loved: Treasured Memories

Re-Loved: Treasured Memories

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It’s shocking how vivid memories can be. All too often I can feel myself in that exact place, experiencing those exact emotions, at that exact moment in time. This happens to me with both good and bad memories.

Sometimes I wish the “Men in Black” guys would wave their light beam in front of my face wiping my mind clear of the unsettling details in those god-forsaken flashbacks. But all too often, I wish I could literally relive those gems, those cherished, sparkling moments in time. How do I stretch those glorious moment seared into the deepest layers of my being, making them go on longer? I don’t have the answer to that yet, but the thought alone makes me happy.

Memory triggers – sight, smell, sound – are just as intriguing as the clarity. How can a complete stranger walking by you on the streets of Chicago make you think of that first kiss you almost had with the boy you had a crush on freshman year of High School? Two words: Drakkar Noir.

So here I am visiting my family in Springfield, IL and staying at my sister’s house. She’s weeks away from giving birth to her third child – a girl – we're all so excited. Julie has a 9 year old daughter (my niece, Cierstin) and 3 year old son (my nephew, Paxton). Throughout the years, we’ve willingly swapped kid items with one another, and because her children are both older that mine, typically, it’s been her passing things along to me; however, this time, I had a chance to return the favor by loaning her Atia’s nursery bedding.

As I was packing up the bumpers, crib skirt and matching blanket I felt no emotional ties at all. As my mom and I affixed the bumper to the crib rails, tying the lace fabric into delicate bows, I admired the bedding, complimenting myself on the beautiful choice I’d made years ago – a vintage dusty rose and olive green pattern - simple, sweet and timeless.

Later that afternoon, as I rounded the hallway corner and caught a glimpse of the empty crib out of the corner of my eye, the memories came flooding back…

There I was five years earlier, standing in Atia’s bedroom doorway caressing my protruding belly, sharing silent conversations with her about how much I loved her, how excited I was to meet her, how I’d worked very hard to create the perfect room for her, one which I hoped she liked. I sat in the stuffed, mint-green, rocking chair adjacent to her crib imagining her in the empty bed, pretending to hush her cries and envisioning my skilled touch soothing her discomfort - my heart overflowing with a mother’s love for her unborn child.

Both good and bad memories happened in Atia’s perfectly selected baby bedding. But at that moment, the good trumped the bad.

I adore her set and I’m thrilled my sister accepted my offer to use it for her new daughter. I can only imagine the memories that baby bedding may someday hold for her; I can only hope they are as lovely as mine are.

Aita enjoying her comfy crib and beautiful bumper set

Calling the dusty rose baby bedding a hand-me-down, or gently used doesn’t seem quite right. I think I’ll call it Re-Loved, because that’s what it is… loved again.

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