Remember When

An afternoon of stories I never want to forget.

Remember when you were little, and you would go to your grandparents’ house for time with the extended family and your parents, your grandparents, aunts and uncles would all sit around the table and talk and “visit” for hours?

As a kid, you were so bored. You wanted to go home, you wanted to watch TV, you wanted to go play outside, you wanted to be anywhere but there because it was so boring.

Then you become the parent, and the tables turn, and you realize what an incredible gift it is to have time to tell stories, to laugh and joke, to reminisce, and to learn about your family, and about your parents.

Because when we are younger, we only think about ourselves, we think that we’re the only story that matters.

But as we get older, we begin to understand that our story is woven into theirs.
You can’t really tell one without the other.

Before spring break, there was Grandparents’ Day at my girls’ school. Three of their grandparents drove in from out of town to be there — for the program of singing, reciting scripture, reading in the classroom, visiting, and lunch out afterwards. But something magical happened after lunch and ice cream.

We sat in my new conversation room.

The conversation room.

We pulled a couple of chairs in, and we talked for hours. We heard stories we never heard from our parents in high school and college. I heard details of my parents’ engagement that I had never heard before - some of the things we heard we maybe didn’t wanna hear, but we’re old enough now we’re part of the story we can see that they’re story and their journey is so much more important and intricate than we ever thought.

And as much as we want to tell our own stories, it’s so important to hear theirs.

Halfway through my parents telling us the story of how they got together in high school and broke up a few times in college, only to get engaged after not speaking to each other for six entire months. I got the smart idea to go grab my phone, open my voice Notes app, and put it face down on the table to record the story, the magic, the laughter, and the animation, and I’m so glad I did.

I recorded over an hour and a half of conversation of hearing my dad talk about his best friends from high school and my mom talk about her times of prayer with her friends post college and my mother-in-law tell hilarious stories that we’ve never heard about all the past that cross before my husband and I met it was incredible and it was a afternoon I don’t want to ever forget.

I don’t know if it’s because I watched three good friends bury their dads recently, but I’m leaning in to this time, treasuring it for what it is, holding onto it, leaning in to the times where the mood is right, the energy is high, and the stories are flowing. I don’t wanna miss this.

I have the recording now — their voices, their laughter, their stories — and I have a feeling it’s something I’ll treasure more and more with time.

Have you ever recorded a conversation with your parents or grandparents? If not, this might be your sign.