It's funny how the lens of childhood can shape memories. A couple of weeks ago we took a road trip down to North Carolina to see the grandparents. For the kids, it was a blast. We spent part of the weekend strawberry picking with our friend Joy and her family.
And we all went to a antique car show. I am so not a car person, but I will admit it was pretty fun. So many colors and exotic curves, cars were a lot more fun way back when.
The kids played and gorged on sweets and generally had a fabulous weekend. And that's how they will remember the weekend. They won't remember that this was the first weekend their grandparents were in an old folks home. They won't remember that grandma got lost walking from the living room to the bedroom of their new small apartment. They won't recall the piles of stuff yet unpacked, memories from a lifetime crammed into some boxes awkwardly trying to fit into a new, final space. They won't remember the pain and worry in their daddy's and grandpa's eyes as they tried to convince grandma to eat, or tried to help her find the bed in her bedroom.