A couple of weekends ago I sat outside and watched little pieces of my heart walk off with total strangers. Sold off to the highest bidder and callously carted away with no regard for the ache I felt inside.
We were having a garage sale. And among the picture frames, dusty fake ferns, lampshades and old curtains were items with enough memories attached to them to last a lifetime.
One such item was the guardrail which was so significant in that phase of transitioning both my sweet babies from their cribs to “big kid” beds. You know that phase right? It’s such a momentous event! You buy the new bed (or simply remove the railing from their crib like we did), watch them climb in and out over and over, say things like “oh you are such a big boy/girl now!” and then suddenly realize that their new-found freedom might not be such a great thing after all when they come and wake you up at some ungodly hour of the morning.