As today warmed into genuine spring weather, I got out my old red wheelbarrow. It brought back a memory.
I don’t know about you, but life speeds by so fast and memory is so imperfect, I sometimes wonder about my own past. I have three adult children- was I a good parent? It is so easy to remember being so tired and falling asleep reading bedtime stories, or being grumpy, or worried. It is easy to remember the emergencies and scares. What about the joys and sillinesses?
When my kids were little we were in a fruit and vegetable coop, where the shopper for the week would buy wholesale, making the purchasing decisions, and a sorter would sort the produce into boxes, on their back porch usually, and the other coop members would come around sometime during the day to pick up their box and leave a check under a rock on the picnic table.
We didn’t keep the full coop going during the summer months because everyone’s schedules fell apart with travel and such. But a few neighbors and I kept a smaller version going. It was so close to home that I would walk my red wheelbarrow to pick up my box of food.
And I’d give my littlest, Joey, a ride in the wheelbarrow. It was a careening adventure of a ride because- as you may know- wheelbarrows are pretty tippy. We’d whiz fast downhill and laughingly trudge uphill.
At those moments, I was a good parent. I thank my red wheelbarrow for the memory.