As I walked through the house for the last time, I tried to collect all of the memories that had occurred within those walls and take them with me. Unlike all of the boxes neatly packed and labeled, I'm sure there are memories that will be left behind forever. I'm truly saddened that you will have no personal memories of living on Crompton Street.
You won’t remember:
- My disheveled appearance rushing to work the morning after standing in the bathroom for over an hour, holding a pregnancy test that said “positive” trying to let it sink in.
- The expression on your dad’s face when he learned exactly what I meant when I said we’d “gotten a souvenir from our trip to Chicago”.
- Playing footsie with the cats as they napped on my growing belly.
- Us hanging the pink “C”, “O”, “R”, “A” letters above your crib or the tiny birds in your nursery when we found out we were having a girl and naming her Cora Wren.
- Our joy in bringing home a healthy, beautiful baby girl from the hospital and welcoming her into our world.
- The droves of people who came to meet you.
- Granny Pritchett singing Miss Mary Mack to you when you were just days old in the same fashion she had done for me when I was a little girl.
- Trying on your first Halloween costume.
- Enjoying tummy time while gazing at your mutt puppy.
- The smell of your first cedar Christmas tree or the sound of the crinkling paper as we opened your first Christmas presents for you.
- Playing with the gorgeous and hilarious girl in the bathroom mirror.
- Seeing your first snowflakes.
- Sitting on the kitchen table in your Bumbo chair, under the Rosie the Riveter poster, eating your first bite of bananas.