Where are Memories Stored?

Joseph and I really like to conjure up ideas and build toys for our kids. Over the years, we've done some pretty neat things. We made a whole set of wooden blocks. We made a ball pit. We made a puppet theater. We made a doll house plus many of the fixins' (clothes, bedding, furniture etc.) for the dolls (see this previous post). For Nathan's fifth birthday, we threw him a Thomas the Tank Engine party and made these trains for each of the kids who came:


I found the extra trains that we had the other day and let Brigham play with them. I went back and forth deciding whether I would keep them or not. In the end, the face fell off of the Thomas and that decision was made easy.

All in all, I'm working to get rid of things even in the face of my version of practicality. For instance, why get rid of boy clothes that Brigham will eventually grow into? On the other hand, what is the price to store them for another five years until they fit him (and the elastic waistbands are likely shot)?

I also want to get rid of a lot of things that I think my memories are tied to (like the Thomas trains), because we just can't keep storing all of that stuff. (Do I sound like a broken record? Probably!) I was on the phone the other night with a lady whom I hope to get to know better (hi Jenny!). She talked about not letting the things that are in our homes define our memories. I thought that was wise. Somehow as I look at these things, it seems like the memories are captured inside them. If I remove the object, it seems like I remove the memory. In reality, I believe I just project the memory into the object. They are really stored inside me.

I haven't figured out how to keep memories differently. Maybe I do know how, but I've not effectively done it in the past. Surely pictures and journals are a big part of it. Sadly, I haven't done a very good job in the past of taking and making pictures available or of writing things down. My friend mentioned sending me the letters I had written to her over the years. I'm grateful for that because my journals are a desert during that time frame. (Wish I'd thought of sending people their letters before I rashly threw them out!)

My memories are important to me. I don't want to lose them.

P.S. For some bed-making fun, check out Lara's blog!