I don’t remember when I first began to cherish moments… but I know it was a long, long time ago.

I would linger in moments for what seemed forever, and lock them in my brain.  I remember many of these moments like they just happened… good-night hugs from my Dad, my Mom washing my hair in our kitchen sink, a first-day-of-school brown plaid dress with a little bow, a Chatty Cathy doll all wrapped in Christmas paper, brand new roller skates and sailing down a big California hill, my Nana’s Saturday night beans ‘n franks, my childhood dog hiding in our kitchen cabinets, my first tuna sandwich, my newborn cousin coming home from the hospital, my Uncle Ed tending his rose gardens, the colored streamers hanging from my bicycle handlebars.

I always thought of my moments like a giant file box in my head. I could find them, look at them and live them again.  People always told me that I must have a good memory.  But I always knew it was more than that.  It was my life happening, and each moment was intricately connected to the next… and each moment meant something so important.  Even the tiniest moments.

(No, I don’t have hyperthymestic syndrome, where every single detail of your life is remembered to a level beyond normal.)

I just have a memory for moments that I can recall by a suggestion of a person, place, thing or event.  I’ve never thought it as anything but a blessing… a teaching blessing… because each of my ordinary life moments has brought great joy over and over again, and each of my not-so-great moments has taught me a great life lesson.

So it was almost a miracle to me when I first read Thornton Wilder’s play Our Town.  I was a freshman in college, studying to become an English teacher.  I had lived in New Hampshire as a child (the play is set in fictional Grover’s Corners, NH), but I “recognized” the feel of the people and the place.  I “met” the characters Emily, George, Mrs. Gibbs and all the rest… and then, when Emily died, I felt to my core the conversation she had with her also-deceased mother-in-law, Mrs. Gibbs.  Mrs. Gibbs’ answer to Emily about which day of her life to “re-live” answered every wonder, every question, every marvel I had ever had about my life’s cherished moments.  Mrs. Gibbs says to Emily:  At least, chose an unimportant day.  Chose the least important day in your life.  It will be important enough.

That’s about all I ever knew, or needed to know, about my own life’s moments.  Each moment was important.

And this brings me to my 31 Letters Project as part of my 365 Days of Literacy for Kids – Fun, Easy & Completely Do-able.  The idea was to get kids and grandkids and special kids in our lives excited about letters, words, stories, moments. Each day in March, for 31 consecutive days, I wrote letters to my 9 grandchildren telling about stories and moments from my childhood.  The moments came back to me… so vividly, so colorfully, so wonderfully.  I was able to tell my grandchildren all about life back then.  I was able to introduce them to people in my life who are no longer with us.  I had hoped to make even seemingly ordinary moments… moments to treasure.

Yesterday, I got just about the greatest gift imaginable.

I headed to my mail-slot drop at my front door and stooped down to find a letter.  A letter for me.  You know how your heart races when you get a real letter in the mail?  That was me!

I opened the envelope and there were 2 letters inside… one from 10-year old Maddie and one from 6-year old Jake.  Their words told me all about… yes, moments.  Maddie told me about her favorite song from way back in pre-school and her friend who loved the song, too.  The song is Lollipop.  Jake wrote about going to the beach to collect shells and rocks and seeing lots of dogs there, too.

These are my grandchildren’s moments eternalized in words.  These are moments and words I can touch through their own hand-writing.  These are moments I am in with them.

Think about moments from your childhood or teenage-hood.  Write about one moment… even a very ordinary moment, in a letter to your kids.  Mail that letter.

You may get a cherished moment, a moment you never realized as cherished, right back!