I lived in several places growing up, attending most of my elementary school years in Cedar City, Utah; going to junior high in Wichita, Kansas; and attending high school in Grace, Idaho. Because of this, I know people from all over. But because I haven't been back to those places, I fear that no one even remembers who I am. I have been able to connect with a few key friends from those places, thankful that someone remembers me, but I know that most people wouldn't remember the shy, brown-eyed girl that was usually too timid to exert herself, and then moved away. I don't even have yearbooks from the past because they were in a box in our garage when a pipe froze and then burst, flooding everything.
Sometimes I look back upon my childhood and wonder if those memories I seem to have even happened at all. I think my hazy past has something to do with my obsession now with scrapbooking, my desire to document our lives, to make a record of my children's activities. I'm so thankful for the invention of the digital camera which completely erases any hesitancy to snap away as many pictures as I want.
I treasure the few pictures I have of my childhood. A few years back I encouraged my dad to scan and digitize some of the slides they had accumulated over the years. I know it was a labor of love, very time consuming. It has been like getting back a portion of my youth, validating for me that those memories were real. Thank you, Dad. It means a lot to me.