Tag: memories

Touchstone

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“When it’s over, it’s the happy memories that hurt.” – unknown

“This car is packed with memories,” Miss O said as we pulled into the lot of the company we were selling it to.

I’d aimed to sell the car earlier in the day. But it was so old that the title was in my married name. Even with the proper documentation, it took longer than I’d anticipated so I had to return with my kids to finalize the deal.

Miss O was right – the car was packed with memories from the 18 years I owned it. And about a thousand goldfish crackers stuck in the cracks. We’d tried to get all the goldfish out but probably missed at least a dozen.

This was the car I’d trepidatiously drove Miss O home from the hospital in almost ten years ago. And made that same trip with Mr. D about six years ago filled with awe and a little bit of overwhelm. Speaking of family members, it was the car we picked up Cooper the dog in as a puppy two years ago. Miss O sat with him in a box on our lap in the back seat and explained the world, “This is a freeway. That is an airplane. And you are my new best friend.”

It’s carried us, our well-worn hiking shoes, and our stuffies to school, our favorite vacation spots, and the best hiking trails.

The car was the last car of mine that my dad rode in and helped fix. I can still see him taping plastic over the rear window on the driver’s side when it stopped working on a stormy November day.

Along with the goldfish crackers, the car probably has two pounds of dog hair even after we vacuumed and vacuumed. It was the car that carried me to say good-bye to my beloved dog, Biscuit when it was time for him to cross the rainbow bridge at nearly 14 years of age in 2017.

Like all touchstones, the car is just a gateway for all the tender, tense, and touching moments my family has stored in our hearts. Funny how touchstones make feelings so accessible. The car feeling was that life is adventurous, rich, and full of beloved characters we love.

The kids and I hugged the car and walked into the building a little teary-eyed. We sold the car but we are keeping the memories.

(featured photo is of our parking lot car hug)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast about collaboration – in our families, friendships, at work and in the world.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

The Ups and Downs of Adventure

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“Jobs fill your pocket, adventures fill your soul.” – Jaime Lyn Beatty

This past weekend I went on a bike ride with my kids. I think the below is a fairly accurate graph of the big emotions during the adventure. I didn’t chart the minor tremors as it’d look like we had been in an earthquake.

And this is how we remember it looking back four days later:

I don’t think this is limited to adventures with young kids. I’ve thought back and I can’t think of a single adventure that I have undertaken that didn’t come with at least one low moment. Tired, hungry, in pain, uncertain about success, sometimes all of the above. And yet, there are none that I wish I hadn’t done.

Now I’m just grateful that my kids keep my expedition muscles working. Because in the end, I think these adventures, big and small, teach us about life. We learn we can do it, survive the ups and downs, and in the process, do something worth remembering.

(all photos are mine)

You can find me on Instagram @wynneleon and LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/

I co-host a storytelling podcast featuring authors and artists with the amazing Vicki Atkinson. To tune in, search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music or Pocketcasts (and subscribe) or click here. Or the YouTube channel features videos of our interviews. Please subscribe!

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about creativity and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

Making Memories

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“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until becomes a memory.” – Dr. Seuss

I put my hand in my coat pocket this morning and came out with a shell, two rocks, and a coin. The collection made me smile because they came from spending our New Years holiday week at the beach.

Staying at the beach in the winter felt like leaving everything else behind. The only thing we had to be mindful of was the tide chart. With the new moon on December 30th, the tides were pretty extreme. The water was really high during the day. So much so that the beach was under water except for about an hour window mid-morning. At night, there was a huge low tide.

So we threw rocks, balanced on logs, and looked for treasure when we could during the daylight hours. Then we went for night walks on the beach. The kids and I put on our hats with head lamps built in and walked out with Cooper on the smooth, flat sand.

On a couple of those nights, the sky was clear and the plethora of stars we could see were awe-some. Five-year-old Mr. D came inside and drew out Orion’s belt and the Big Dipper so that he could remember them.

The memory that seared into my heart was one night when we reached the beach and the kids fell into a line ahead of me. Nine-year-old Miss O in the front with her light shining out wide, Cooper in the middle visible only because of his white coat, and Mr. D not far behind with his light trained on the ground at his feet. They made a beautiful line parallel to the water as the waves lapped softly in accompaniment.

I’m going to leave the shell from my pocket on my calendar. It’s a reminder that while making appointments is part of life, the real goal is to make memories.

Story-Telling

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“Life is not measure by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” – Maya Angelou

I met my friend Phil on the side of Mt. Rainier in the middle of the night 20 years ago. The group I was with was just crawling out of our tents to get ready for a summit bid. The group he was guiding had started 1,000 feet lower down and was passing by on their way to the upper reaches of the mountain. He gruffly joked with me, “Keep that tent open, I think I’ll just crawl in and sleep awhile.”

Phil is a very accomplished climber and mountain guide – the first American to climb the north side of Everest, the eighth person to climb to the highest place on each continent, over 500 (I think) ascents of Mt. Rainier. But one of the most noticeable things about him is his ability to tell stories.

It seems like mountain climbers and story-telling often goes hand in hand. Probably because there is a lot of down-time waiting for the right time to summit. On our way to Everest base camp in 2001, we would trek one day and rest one day so that the group of 5 people who would be climbing Everest that season could acclimatize. On the days off, we’d just sit in the mess tent, play cards and tell stories.

Blogging reminds me of that. I’ve been blogging every day for over 6 months. The other day reading this blog post about lessons learned in marriage and parenting a special needs kid by Ab, I realized that blogging is part of my self-care. It’s a way of processing and sharing the things that I want and need to learn from. But it’s also just daily practice in telling a story.

On every trip I’ve done with Phil I’ve noticed how deep his relationship is with the people his climbed with over and over again. I’m thinking about a really nice man from Michigan that we climbed with both in Nepal and Peru, that Phil used to joke, “I keep saying to Bill that he reminds me of a helicopter. Just looking at him, it doesn’t look like he should be able to climb, but he does!”

Phil is now 70 years old and doesn’t climb much any more. But when I’ve visited with him over recent years, I’ve found that telling stories is a way to bring what means most alive to the fore. May we all live our best stories and then tell them again and again to celebrate where we’ve been.