Friday, March 1, 2013

Crayons and Crackers in a Go Bag by the Door

 I don't really even think about it anymore. I just keep the bag hanging by a hook on the backside of the door.
 I guess it started with diapers, when we first were able to leave the house on errands or walks through the park or day ventures to the Portland Zoo, OMSI, or down to Oaks Park for ice cream along the river.
 A diaper bag full of everything: wipes and benadryl packs and ear fluid suctions and teething creams and... well, Mary Poppins would have bowed in respect.
 The girls are bigger now.  Camera batteries and iPhone cables and fine tip markers and sketch pads... Lonely Planets and charts / maps and binoculars and ziplocs full of granola bars and bruised up apples with pocket knives.  Now I'm raising little Jacques Cousteaus.
Still, the bag hasn't changed.  It's still dusty and worn and fits perfectly over my shoulder at a moment's notice.  There's still cracker crumbs inside, I can never seem to completely rid the creases of them... and it still smells like crayons and play doh.  What wonderful memories, this bag has for me.

No comments:

Post a Comment