Don't Defrost Your Windshield With Coffee

Most of my school morning memories are of my father. My mom always got up and left for work before I got up. My dad is the one who supervised getting dressed and ready for school. He dyed the milk green once on St Patrick's Day. He helped me slice cheddar cheese to make a sandwich for lunch. He pulled my sister's shoelaces until they were tight enough for her. He poured hot coffee on the icy windshield once and it immediately froze brown. We would sit three across the big bench seat in the front of his car. He would drop me off at the sitter's house by the school and my sister off at daycare/preschool and then go to Art School.

There was a cafe by our house at that time that we went to very rarely for breakfast. They served giant cinnamon rolls. I remember the dum dum lollipops at the register. There was a coat rack at the front door.

This morning I took my oldest in early to meet with her math teacher and then my middle kid and I went to the hippie coffee shop. I got a coffee and she got a cider and a whole wheat cinnamon roll which she ate by unwinding it. I drove her to school and dropped her off for her orchestra practice which is before school. She wore sparkly jeans, a purple top, and an orange jacket. "Can I borrow a scarf for a belt?" she asked me this morning. The ties from the scarf hung down her leg and somehow looked perfect. This kid has style. She slung her backback on her back, picked up her violin and held her hot cider in its insulated cup.

I had a moment of swirling memories and confusion where I can see the past - my own and hers - and her future. She looked somehow very adult because she was carrying a hot beverage container.

"Have a good day, hon."

"Thanks, you too, mom!" She was all smiles as she slammed the car door shut.

It's a good thing that my coffee wasn't on top of the car when she slammed the door. That's something my dad used to do - leave his coffee cup on top of the car and forget it. Then we would turn the corner and it would smash down on the street. That happened more than once. And frankly, it's happened more than once to me. But this morning my coffee was safe in the cup holder next to me.

This weekend I reminded my Uncle about the pumpkin he carved one Halloween. They grew a giant pumpkin that year and we were very excited about carving it. We drew multiple designs for the face - happy, sad, scared, eye brows, ears, on and on - very detailed. When my Uncle got home from work we rushed him and begged him to carve the pumpkin. He soon realized that the pumpkin was much thicker than your usual pumpkin and he had a really hard time carving it. So we ended up with the most basic of triangle features. My Uncle listened to me tell the story and then said, "I don't remember all that. I remember the giant pumpkin, but I don't remember carving it. It's interesting - it happens with my girls all the time - they have memories of their childhood that I don't and viseversa."

The idea of consciously making memories intrigues me. Disney has totally cashed in on the idea that you can create memories. Photographs and recorders and journals all help with preserving memories. But what I experienced this morning was a rush of memories of the past and projections of the future. And I can't help but wonder what my kids will remember of the parts of their everyday life.