I Want to Remember.

One night last week JD and I traveled up the canyon near our home to cook hamburgers for dinner. The babe fell asleep on the way and slept the whole time we were gone. . . so it was practically  like we were on a date alone together! The mountain air was refreshing, the food was tasty, and the company was pleasant. While JD was preparing our burgers, I wandered over to a nearby stream. In my few moments of reflection, I kept thinking, "I want to remember."   

I want to remember nights like this one. I want to remember the evenings we spent together, intentionally trying to connect and build our relationship. I want to remember the exhilarating rush of still being so in love with my husband. 

I want to remember the way our cute baby has pudged up over the last few weeks with her squishy thighs and round belly. I want to remember the excitement of  JD finally starting PA school applications. I want to remember my quiet fear of totally starting over in a new city soon. . . a city that could be anywhere in the country. I want to remember the satisfaction of knowing I am an effective and competent recreation therapist, as indicated by my boss' decision to hand over her responsibilities to me while she is away on maternity leave. I want to remember the total joy I feel hearing my daughter's spontaneous laughter. I want to remember the way she's learned to reach up for me. I want to remember the hint of jealousy I feel as my sister prepares to start college at BYU. I want to remember the chewiness of the snickerdoodle cookies I made last week. I want to remember the growth I've observed in my brother as he's been serving a mission in Argentina. I want to remember the frustration of trying to manage eleven 12-year olds in Sunday School. I want to remember the happy, content feeling of knowing at least one of them felt the Spirit through my message. I want to remember the pleasure of looking at my bedroom bookshelf, organized and divided by book color. I want to remember the way I've relied on and turned to my co-workers when I am overwhelmed with work responsibilities and they've fully supported and encouraged me. I want to remember the quiet moments at home on our shaggy black rug on the living room floor with my family of three. I want to remember my awe in watching Tenley roll from one end of the room to the other. I want to remember missing the convenience of a bath tub and a dishwasher due to our current basement conditions. I want to remember falling asleep to the gentle purr of a baby monitor and the steady pattern of my husband's deep breaths. I want to remember my life. Right here. Right now. I want to remember.