Yesterday, Mickey tried pulling a book from the shelf for me to read.
“Too heavy,” he said.
He managed to pulled the book down, and weighed down by it’s heaviness, it thudded to the ground. From there, he got down into a bear crawl, and pushed it all the way across the floor to the couch, where I was sitting.
The book was our family photo album from the past year. I motioned for him to sit next to me on the couch and we’d look at the pictures together.
As we flipped through the pages, he peppered them with his usually commentary, “Mickey sleeping,” “Daddy playing with mickey…” He stopped on a page with photos of my mother—“Bubby.”
"Want to go grocery shopping with Bubby."
He said it again, and my my face crumpled with tears that were a mix of joy twinged with sadness.
It’s been 5 months.
We miss you Bubby. So glad we have the pictures of us grocery shopping, hanging out at the park, and at the zoo. So glad we have pictures swimming, and relaxing on the couch.
This is why I take pictures like this.
So that I could remember, and so that Mickey could remember— not only what you looked like, but what it felt like to hang out with you, and to have fun with you. (Yes, even in the grocery store.)
What it felt like to just be around you.
This is why.