Report card

I have been doing empty nest duty, that is, going through old boxes of clothing, toys, books, school papers and craft projects to thin out the amount of Stuff we have to store and shlep.  It is a slow process, each item assessed for it's uniqueness, it's value as a memento and it's ability to evoke a particular memory.  Slow and rich and sad and heart wrenching.

Like excavating layers of strata to uncover historical evidence of a natural area, I am uncovering the important epoch periods of my children's lives.  I find evidence of comfort objects formerly inseparable from each toddler, of initial efforts in writing and drawing, of first love letters, usually to Mommy.  It is the collected evidence of happy, contented lives in a middle class American home.

I also find report cards that summarize the accomplishments of bright, motivated kids.  They are also my report cards, telling me whether my efforts as the primary care giver and mom were effective. They tell me that, like my kids, I mostly got A's.