The other day, Logan let me know he needed some pictures of the family for his TED talk he needed to complete for school.
I haven't kept up.
I've actually been quite random when it comes to putting an affectionate chronology to the past.
I directed Logan to The Basket. This is where all photos from the past have been placed. Yes, it would be better if I'd have tucked each reminiscent moment away under perfect plastic in an album, noting each event and its significance.
But that's not me.
So this is what Logan and I dug through the other night, trying to sow some seed of family he needed for his school project.
We had so much fun, getting our hands dirty, looking through decades of random moments, events, people. We saw ourselves at different stages. We noticed people we couldn't identify.
Tossed among these images were people who I knew decades ago who I still consider friends. We all look like sleep-deprived versions of who we were, years ago. Age has yet to fully catch up to us. Time has yet to create images of ourselves that we can't identify, despite the passage of time.
That moment was meaningful.
The next day, we planted our garden.
It started out like a photo album, with lots of good intentions of keeping track.
I know the zucchini is planted on the east end of our garden. I know the cucumbers have found station way west. I know snap peas have their place due north, next to the lattice. It's only logical for god's sake.
Past that point, I'm not quite sure.
Except for the tomatoes and the peppers. They're obvious.
Just like our garden, just like The Basket, I had such good intentions to be organized.
But sometimes life becomes unpredictable. Like the intention to chronicle the past.
Like the idea that you'll know what's going to grow.
And where it's going to thrive.