So, nearly a year after the trip, I have finally scrapbooked my husband's and my road trip across America. I got it done in about four or five installments and, to be frank, I forgot how to adult during those days (since I was using the time usually used for cleaning or homework or training to put tape on paper products). But, save for two or three pictures that I forgot to print out, the project is finally done. The big binder of souvenirs is finally empty and I finally have an album documenting our time driving to San Francisco and back.
Scrapbooking is basically the answer to those who tend to be too sentimental for their own good. Now, instead of hoarding every ticket stub, we can now put it on a piece of 12 x 12 cardstock and spontaneously flip through it if the mood fits you. Yes, one of your room becomes a mess of scissors and tape and paper scraps for a solid week, but, hey, the memories!
I'm huge on documenting memories, on documenting my life. I remember when an old junior high friend's mom once said, "I actually have no memories of being a teenager. I completely forget what it's like." I thought to myself, "I cannot let that happen to me. I cannot become that out-of-touch adult who doesn't get her teenaged kids because she forgets what it was like to be a teenager herself."
That eventually morphed into wanting to note everything down, even long after I was a teenager. I wanted to be able to have that reference, to remember exactly how I felt during a specific time.
You don't realize how much that is needed until you are going through some old journal entries, or flipping through an old scrapbook, and you're reminded that your memories have started to shift over time. I went over my old 2013 journal entries as I was copying them into Word and thinking to myself, "Wow, I forgot just how miserable I was as a preschool teacher." Sometimes to look back on whenever time dulls the edges and I find myself opining for the days when I ran circle time and scribbled down curriculum at a fevered pace during nap time.
But, on a much more positive note, it was wonderful going through the old photos and maps from our road trip and remembering the type of adventure we had. We were both so desperate to just drive around and chill out after the stressors of work and closing on the house and dealing with mortgage people (which we got to deal with while on our vacation, but *sigh* at least we don't have to directly deal with them again for a long, long, long time).
I intentionally ended my scrapbook on pictures from New Hampshire, pictures of our house and my favorite yoga studio -- almost as a way to show that the vacation ending was the start of something else. And those next 4 or 5 months were eventful, to say the least. Maybe I should've scrapbooked that transition to this brand new chapter in my life.