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i want to remember

liz lamoreux

I want to remember the way you started calling me "Honey" this summer. It equal parts cracks me up and delights me.

I want to remember the sound of your laughter when you say something that you think is so funny.

I want to remember the way you reach for my hand on the evenings I chant to you just before you fall asleep. 

I want to remember the sound of you sounding out words and the look on your face when you figure it out.

I want to remember the way you're growing up as you pause and notice the way your words and actions affect others. It's a huge piece to understand, and I'm so proud of you.

I want to remember when your counselor at camp said, "Has Eleanor told you that she's become one of our best sharers?" and your face beemed when we told Daddy all about it later.

I want to remember the conversations we're having about just playing when it comes to creativity instead of worrying about "being good." I hope you always remember that playing with paint and paper and pens and color and glue is at its core fun.

I want to remember the joy surrounding you when you ran into the studio and said, "Mama, I taught myself how to swing today!" and explained how you are climbing onto the swing yourself and pumping your legs.

I want to remember the way you so often want to do what I'm doing. If I open my journal and start doodling, you want to play in your journal. If I go into the studio, you are close behind me ready to "help make things for your shop mama. I want to help you make things for the ladies." If I'm looking through a magazine, you want your own. I know it won't always be like this, but it's special to connect with you about the little things that bring me joy.

I want to remember that moment when I looked at you and realized you are a big kid now. And I want to remember the moment right before that one too. 

photo by Tara Whitney