A few years ago, I decided to sort and pile and make sense of the endless memories we keep in our home. There was a time when that rite-of-passage stage came to rest on us, and we were handed boxes upon boxes from our parents with that whole I’m-cleaning-out-my-home-take-it-or-leave-it, phase. It was time to draw the line with what we kept, so I tackled the myriad of boxes I’d avoided for a while, in our attic.
It was somewhere between those middle school lunch notes with code names that ended in LYLAS {I tossed bags of them but only after about three hours in glorious reading} along with the yearbooks, baseball trophies, and art show ribbons from our childhood that we kept. We kind of need to make way for new memories. You know, keep it reasonable without becoming total memory hoarders.
The rule I have, is that everything needs to fit in the crate. At least for now: Eventually we’ll outgrow it, but thank heavens for the digital ages. When the memories pile up to be too much in said crate, I reassess, within reason. Because we have baby books and massive piles of CD’s with treasured photos and I still have to sort through more LYLAS notes with code names… all the while coming to grips that maybe Malone’s newborn photos were misplaced, and I have yet to find them. I’m still in denial that they’re lost. I’ll be freaking out for his wedding slide show. Classic youngest child probs.
So the other day, when I was looking for something in particular, I did my usual unload-the-organized-chaos-over-the-entire-living-room thing, while I searched.
I have this painted box with my name on it… cedar from my little girl days that I couldn’t part with. It sat on my dresser my entire childhood and has a green lid with my name written across the top. Classic 80’s. I think it’s some token my parents purchased for me at the Mississippi fair one year. It has a broken lock on the front, and inside it holds the tassel from my high school graduation. A vintage bracelet of my mom’s. A unicorn pin I couldn’t bare to part with and an old smurf necklace my grandmother gave me. A few photos. Another LYLAS note.
And then I saw this rock.
I had no idea what it was at first, as, believe it or not, this is not the first rock I’d uncovered. My dad, for one, is known to write on family memorabilia. A sentimentalist to the core, he’ll be cleaning out his drawers and he’ll bring me something wrapped in a handkerchief that he’s written on. Or a pin. Or all my baby teeth tucked neatly in an envelope. Yes, they even kept those.
There’s always a story to go with it, so I guess I get it honestly. I was sure it was a family memory of sorts, from our childhood trips to Colorado, and while I made a mental note to ask him about it later, I set it aside.
At some point in time in the middle of my searches, Malone had sauntered in, and with his five year old boy vision, he spied the discarded jewel at once. “Mommy, can I play with this?” and then “Can I have this for my rock collection?”
“Sure kiddo,” I’d said absentmindedly. Determined to find my lost item. {And if I was lucky, his newborn pics would also magically appear on that faulty hard drive which I’m sure I backed up on some CD’s somewhere. Cue cringe face emoji.}
It was about an hour later when I’d given up on the item I was searching fruitlessly for, and I was packing up, when Jamin walked in. He immediately spied the little rock Malone had added to his Lego fortress on the coffee table.
“Where did you get that?” I heard Jamin ask.
“Mommy gave it to me,” He replied in between dramatic lego man battle sound effects with his mouth. He always has ‘theme music’ playing, too. One of these days I’m going to sneak a video.
And then Jamin said with a slight surprise in his voice: “Ashley, do you know what this is?”
“No,” I answered simply, shrugging my shoulders and continuing to pack away our {now too full} crate.
“I gave this to you. In college.”
“What?” I stood up straight, taking the rock from his outstretched palm to examine it.
“Yeah. It was that wilderness trek trip I went on in Colorado after your freshman year. We went on a date, and then I left. And I brought this back to you.”
“Wow,” I said, turning it carefully in my hand. This is the part where I’d like to say that the memories materialized instantly, dancing around my head in some weird out of body movie scene while the camera pans and there’s dancing unicorns and rainbows because I remembered. Yay.
But all I recalled was the ‘date’ – which was actually just a casual dinner with my ‘friend’ {who I end up in a total make out session with- sorry mom… and future grown children reading this}. But I didn’t remember the rock.
Still seeing the blank stare in my eyes, he patiently continued to explain its importance: “I gave this to you as a souvenir from that trip. I was there on that mountain top in Colorado, and all I could think about was you.”
“Really?” I asked, slightly amused. At that point in time, I didn’t know he was really even interested.
“That was when I made up my mind about you. I decided was going to pursue you.”
And there, in our living room, sixteen years later, surrounded by kids and dogs and work and school and all the every day life messes, there was a moment.
A sweet moment, where I was taken back in time, and I was nineteen again, and there was this cute older guy who brought me flowers at work. And oh those brown eyes. He’d brought me a rock, and I’d tucked it away in that box.
A little gem of a treasure to be discovered years later, with an entire story behind it, that I never knew.
We’d kissed, and he left, and he brought back this silly little token as a souvenir at the time. I thought it was sweet because he’d thought of me – I had no idea what it meant.
But I held on to it.
A remnant from our past, a fragment of our story I didn’t even know existed. A part of the story that gives me chill bumps. Because you see… Jamin Mills played it totally cool, but he had already made up his mind.
I just didn’t know it yet.
And as much as {I only partially} hate to admit it, it worked.
Needless to say, that little rock found its home among some of my faves in our studio. I told Malone the most important piece he can ever own in his rock collection will be displayed on Mommy’s shelves.
It’s funny… sometimes when looking for one thing, you totally stumble across another.
And I guess you never know the full story until you hear a hidden part of someone else’s perspective.
Years later, even today on our thirteenth wedding anniversary when it feels like all that giddy stuff has faded, its nice to find a little sentimental romance.
Especially in the little things.
A good pair of shoes + the story of how we met
Here’s to fifty more, babe. And the unexpected treasures that come with it.
Anna says
This is precious. Congratulations to you and cheers to many more!
Janet says
This is precious! Love your stories.
Layla says
Perfect. Stories like these are priceless. Happy anniversary!