Mom and I are, in many ways, creatures of habit. We love our traditions. The autumn after Papa died, we'd walk our route through the neighborhood to the library in the evening, savoring the crisp air and sometimes the rain, stopping at times for a cup of tea or coffee in downtown Ballard before heading back. Once at home, we'd settle into our pajamas and watch an episode of Gilmore Girls and laugh along with their witty banter and commiserate with them in their crazy drama. Now that we've been through all the seasons of Gilmore Girls two or three times, we've moved onto to various other series, continuing our tradition as much as we're able. On Sunday mornings before church, we often wake up early, roll out of bed and dress in our walking clothes, hitting up one of the many local coffee shops in our neighborhood for breakfast and conversation.
Last night we met up for dinner at one of our favorite hangouts and she helped me break my finances down into a tangible budget. My big sis inherited Mom's financial whiz gene. They both love the challenge of crunching numbers and budgets, whereas numbers seem to fly over my head. I inherited Papa's propensity for thinking about the big scope of things and getting a little bogged down by all the little details. I've often wished I were more like them, and Mom is always happy to share her talents with me. When we finished, I felt inspired, not weighted down, supported by Mom's encouragement and practicality.
It's these simple things that tap me on the shoulder every now and then, as if to whisper, "Remember this moment." I have a hunch these memories will be some of my most precious treasures someday, but they are gifts now, and I find I am more mindful than ever to be fully present as they occur, seeing them for the gifts that they are.