Written in Dust

I was dusting yesterday, and I had a realization of sorts.  I was dusting because my niece is coming for a visit, and I wanted to make the house look nice-and because of recent painting projects, I have not sewn, written-or dusted, for weeks, so the dust was thick.   As I dusted, I did a little pondering, too.  (Tasks like dusting present the ideal setting for allowing one’s mind to wander around random thoughts.) 

Dusting away the dust, it came to me.

Yesterday, Amy was off on an excursion to visit her first college.   She still has a couple of years of high school left, but it’s not too early to at least start thinking about  college.  Looking back on Amy’s elementary, middle school and now two years of high school, she’s shown an interest and aptitude for both the arts as well as the sciences.  This past year, though, seems to have have filtered and refined those interests and aptitudes, and Amy’s true passion is history, and she wants to study archaeology.

As I dusted around pottery vases and faded sepia toned photographs, obsolete film cameras, musty books, and out of date globes, the blue fan with shiny metal blades and a 1930’s travel alarm clock that still runs-the realization hit me.  Amy has grown up surrounded by relics.  Not ancient, but still, old.  Artifacts from bygone eras that I’ve collected over the years because I wanted to surround myself with tangible pieces of history left behind by those who came before me.

The thought of Amy leaving home in two years is very, very hard for me, and I know there will be many tears when that day comes.   But I’m terribly excited for Amy, too.  I’m thrilled that in her own way, she wants to follow in my footsteps.  Even if the footsteps that beckon her were left thousands of years ago.   

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I’ll be taking a blogging break to spend time with family-and I’ll be back Friday.  Have a great week!