Selective Memory

You have to remember the good things, I think.  As a parent, it’s as much about mental preservation as it is your happiness.  So despite your daughter’s many tantrums over the weekend, and the way you just couldn’t get a good night’s sleep, what you choose to remember is this – the way she looked at the aquarium when she stood face to face with a scuba diving Santa.  The way the flights of stairs looked, slick with rain and yellow leaves, as you climbed your way to Pike Place Market.  The way your daughter held your hand and happy danced at her first forkful of Beecher’s mac and cheese.  How she cuddled on the couch with you in the late afternoon light, too excited to sleep but trying so hard.  How you sat at your table together and painted ornaments to hang on your Christmas tree.  You’ll be happy, you know, to pull them out in all the years to come.  To see them later, when time has shaped your memories and they no longer remind you of the tears she cried when you washed the paint from her hands.