My oldest daughter and I had some time together tonight. Time alone, just she and I, which is rare anymore with a toddler in the house. It was about a half hour before bedtime and although I had piles of work to do and she was content playing a computer

Eating slowly, as to enjoy every bite, we began to speak of nothing in particular. The day’s events, her plans for the week ahead, summer. We watched a mama bird fly back and forth from the trees and back to her nest, which is nestled in the awning over our backdoor. She comes back year after year so we are accustomed to one another’s purpose and rhythms.  We talked about the bird and the many chicks she has had here over the years. I mentioned that it was a perfect evening and that it had been a while since we enjoyed the backyard together like this. She nodded and then began to reminisce about that last time she remembers we were there. It was during a lightening storm. They are very rare here and this one in particular was like those I have only seen a few times in my life, most of those times I was traveling in other parts of the country or abroad. The storm performed a magnificent show of light and sound. Lightening that lit the whole night sky to day in flashes bold and blinding. The thunder that rattled the house and shook us to the core.  Even still, there was no rain. It was late, way past bedtime, but I wrapped my daughter up in a blanket, pajamas and bare feet, and we sat on our outdoor couch and marveled at the spectacle. Squealing with every crash, gasping at every bolt, laughing, talking, excited, exhilarated, giddy we sat together for almost an hour.  The rain inevitably came in full, heavy drops and it was time to turn in. I remember that night vividly and to my delight, she does too.

 That reflection led to others with, “Oh mom, remember when…” and “Remember the time that…” and as we sat there musing I realized that all of these clear pictures in her mind were of things that were out of the ordinary for us. Not quite in step with our normal routine.  Like the time that the power went out or the night we shrugged off bedtime to view a lunar eclipse. Or when we drove all night to get to our destination and she got to ride in the car in her pajamas. All these adventures etched in her memory were events and experiences that stirred her, thrilled her, touched her deep enough to remember even years later. The exciting, the fun, the new and different. And I too can recall those times clearly from my own childhood. Sleeping under the stars in the mountains, an earthquake, watching a drive in movie from the back of a pick up truck with blankets and pillows. All these moments I remember because there was something unique and special in every one. Most certainly the normal routine of daily life weaves the tapestry of a strong family fabric. I’m the first to agree there and know it to be true. But sometimes, when the chance arises, by stitching in a little something that sparkles, we are offering ourselves, and our children the joy of discovering and remembering something extraordinary.