I came across this picture while visiting my mother last weekend. It was taken almost 25 years ago on an Easter morning. I wasn't even three years old yet. Look how excited I was about my little Easter basket. I didn't know how to play checkers and Lord knows I didn't need the candy, but that little basket was obviously like a pot of gold to me.
Not much has changed since that picture. My parents still have that terrible floor and paneling (though it no longer reflects light as it did here). My hair is still wild, I still spend a lot of time in my pajamas and my mouth is perpetually open (I'm sure I was talking, even as the picture was snapped). And thankfully, I still get this excited over what some might deem insignificant events. Messages in my Inbox. Waking up to find out I have 30 more minutes to sleep. The end of a long day. The beginnings of a friendship.
I hope that I can look back in 25 years and still feel my heart go "hippity hop" at the little things. Holding my husband's hand. A phone call from my children. The gift of another birthday.
I hope that I can still find joy in a cheap basket full of candy and board games.
If I can, then my life will have been well lived.
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