The minimalist in me wanted to toss them into the the recycling bin, but I couldn't stop looking at the faces that had once been so important in my life
the wrinkled hands laced together, anchoring my small body on their laps
the smiling eyes locked onto all of the great-grand babies spread out across the couch
their full hearts apparent and full across their lips as little arms wrapped themselves around their necks.
I called my grandmother this morning to chat and to ask if she and my grandpa would come visit Friday and spend the day with the boys while John and I tended to the many things calling our names.
My kids cheered and hollered, a surge of joy and exclamation at the thought of grandma and papa coming for the day.
And I wonder if they'll look at pictures one day when they are grown and linger for just a few minutes whispering gratitude
that mere pictures can bring them to a dead halt
when they're clearing out the garage
take their hearts captive with memories
for days after.
And I hope they'll know that they've become the people they've grown to be
because of those hands
who long held them beyond the carrying years.