October 19

I look forward to our annual trip to the pumpkin farm, and given the lack of baseball this weekend, today was the big day for 2024.

And this beauty right here is the 22nd image in what's currently a series of 22; a series that started way back when I was very pregnant with Abby and looked like I was trying to smuggle a large gourd out under my stretched-to-its-limit shirt. Sweet memories.

Anyway, we hit the road bound for Half Moon Bay at around 9:45 this morning. Since it also happens to be pumpkin festival weekend we knew we were in for a long ride, but we didn't let the heavy (and slow) traffic get us down. (As I paraphrased a quote by Sally in Cars, "we were traveling to HAVE a great time, not to MAKE great time.") We listened to tunes and then later, to a series of corgi races on YouTube. Corgi races are surprisingly hilarious. (Isaac was delighted when Tedford Woofington took a surprise victory.)

Then when we arrived at Pastorino's, we took our annual photo (okay, well, a series of them, since I like to have a selection to choose from, especially on extra-sunny, blink and squint inducing days like this one) and then nabbed a free wheelbarrow. Pumpkins were chosen (and photographed extensively, if you were Isaac) and more photos were snapped. And then we began the trip back home, which included a stop at McD's for lunch.

I love this tradition. And I love our photo sequence. I love looking back at the details in the older images, like how tall the kids were and what outfits they wore and how their expressions changed from year to year. I love watching as --frame by frame-- they each surpass me in height. Abby first, and then Isaac, and finally --this year!-- Brady. 

There's also the obvious sadness over the truth that Logan was in so few of these precious images, but there's joy in Lambie's presence in each one (he's there again this year!) and there's joy in remembering the amazing boy he was --the way he smiled and danced and loved-- while he was here. And there's more joy in knowing that we'll see him again whenever Someday arrives. I think of him every day, but on days like this one --the ones steeped in tradition and fun-- the memories of him become more salient and real. And I love how tangible they feel because somehow, it makes him feel a little less gone.

So for all of that -- for traditions and pumpkins and corgi races and memories and family and the promise of a tomorrow that's beyond what I can imagine where I will see that boy of mine again -- I am grateful.