I want to shine some "lyte" on nostalgia. The other night, my daughters and I looked through their artwork dating from when they first started drawing through 1st grade. It was a different experience than looking at photos or watching videos. More visceral. More immediate.
Those pictures really took me back to those days. I remembered the plastic picnic table where most of the masterpieces were created. I was amazed at the sheer amount of work they produced. I must have spent a small fortune on paint and paper. Looking at their tiny handprints was especially poignant.
I was feeling quite nostalgic for those days, such simple and yet incredibly difficult, days. But that feeling didn't last long. I also remembered just how frustrating those days were. As challenging as teens can be, I will take them any day over a toddler.
My kids were shocked that I saved so much. I can't explain why. Most of the work is not identified or dated. A lot of it lacks any artistic sensibility. But I see myself in the not-too-distant future; grayer and undoubtably wiser, surrounded by the creativity of my children, hopefully, grandchildren, and if I am really blessed, great-grandchildren. Being bathed in visions of tiny handprints.
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