Last week I went up into my parent's attic in search of some things from my childhood that I wanted the kids to see. (Not that they care at this point, but someday, maybe). While up there I ended up on a very joyful, heart-breaking, question-answering, tearful, gut-wrenching, endearing trip down memory lane and into my precious Mother's past. I wasn't looking for that but those moments will be ones I treasure for the rest of my life. Her story isn't mine to tell, although I am trying to persuade her to write it down for me. But I loved that time with my Mom. James was up there with us for part of it and I loved the thought of 5 generations as we poured over these "treasures". My great grandmother and grandmother's belongings, my mom, James, and me. I never met my grandmother and only met my great grandmother when I was too young to remember her. So to get to see their things was precious to me. My Mother has painstakingly written notes and label