Emily's Memories

We were at a restaurant for dinner, which is a novelty, since dining out with a 2 year old and 5 year old does not qualify as relaxing-- not even slightly.  It's super exciting for Emily and Lucas, though, and we had a gift certificate, afterall.  I figure if I can escape the restaurant with only minor incidents (such as someone spilling a drink, which has happened of course) and without any major incidents (such as vomiting, which has happened, too)--we'd be in great shape.  Coupled with the thought of no cooking and no dishes to cram into the dishwasher, I was up for the challenge.

So there we were, cracking into our freebie crayons and kiddo colouring-menus when Emily turned to me and said, 'Mommy, remember when daddy...'.  Then she stopped and just looked at me.  She didn't have anything more to say.  I realized then how often she must hear me say that, and so she tried herself to tell a story.  Usually this phrase ends in a smile or a laugh, remembering something special about Daddy.  But she didn't have a memory to share.  She doesn't have any of her own memories.  It was a painful thought.

Emily's memories of Mike will, importantly, be built like an old stone wall-- layered carefully, pieces nestling into one another, holding each other in place by the force of the other, creating something beautiful and exceptionally strong.   I hope in some way, these memories do become her own, as she integrates them into her very being.  And so she won't even remember ever being told about her loving, lovely Daddy... she will just come to remember these meandering, sprawling stories as her own.   They are yours, Emily.  These stories belong to you and Lucas.