My yearly scrapbook retreat is well underway. It begins with the 90 mile drive to the remote getaway where 20+ ladies escape to get caught up recording their favorite family memories.
The first ten years or so that I participated in these weekends, mom of three under the age of 5, I always accomplished so much. Late nights led to a bounty of finished pages documented with antecdotes and details. The oval and circular and rounded-cornered pictures displayed smiling faces of what seemed to be lives filled with joy and random personal moments. But I was always conflicted with how much to include in these scrapbooks. How do I portray my family? I can’t imagine recording the stories behind what appeared to be the typical family portrait, describing the rantings of my special son who could not bear to sit in the restrictive suspenders and itchy knee-highs. The tears had been wiped away before the camera popped; I knew nothing about that photo hinted at the hopeless doubt behind my eyes.
I don’t know if what I revealed through my scrapbooks was the right thing to do. I guess I figure I would rather people remember the precious moments and know that the other memories will fade…and that’s probably a good thing.