I used to be an avid scrapbooker. My photographs came together in beautiful albums to tell a story. And then, I stopped liking the story.
The happy ending disappeared along with my husband and at least half of everything I owned, and I stopped creating books that told the story of my life. Then, a few weeks ago, a friend invited me to spend the weekend scrapping with her. I didn't even think about it; I just said "yes." If I'd taken the time to think it through, I probably would've backed out. I'm so glad I didn't think.
I'll be spending this weekend at the Sweet Scrappin' Escape with my friend Di. So last night, I had to go through photos and supplies to see what project I should work on. Realizing where my scrapping efforts ended hit me like a blow to the gut. The last album I worked on - which is now only half done - was the last trip to Disney I took with Christopher. The trip he admits was the last time he was ever truly happy with me. The trip during which my mother went through her first round of chemo. The trip before life began to unravel.
I'm going to finish that album this weekend. It's a story that deserves a place. And then I'll move on to either our trip to the Pacific Northwest in 2002, or my years at EIU. I haven't decided which, but I'll have all weekend to figure it out and work on it. And you know what? I'm excited. There's been enough time that I can look back and remember the good times. I can accept that it was a blast, even if it wasn't meant to last. And I'll create albums that tell the stories, knowing that there are more stories to tell every day. I can't wait to get my weekend started!