It's the Little Things

At a playdate recently, BB was given half a pad of post-it notes by one of her friends. You'd scarcely believe how much she treasures these little pieces of paper. And now she's taken to leaving us little notes, like this one I found on the wall of my bedroom:
Here's the close up:

This note is a keeper. If only to remind me in years to come how much simple joy my little girl could get out of a marker and some blue squares of paper -- and how much joy she could give by letting us know she loves us.

People say the memory is in the mind, not in the relic. These are the same people who ruthlessly organize their own closets, discarding shirts not worn for years even if it was the shirt worn when first they snuggled up to their beloved. Me, I kept that shirt. (For 20 years now.) Because for me, there's magic and emotion in the thing itself. Even if it is merely scribbles on paper.

Yes, the little things add up -- and you can't save them all. Shouldn't. But in the midst of the organizing frenzy that is sure to hit home in the near future (because I'm starting to get overwhelmed by the chaos) I'm giving myself permission to keep the little things. At least some of them.