Love notes

When I was growing up, my mom would leave notes on the counter to let us know where she was, what we needed to do, who called and left a message, etc. We would read the note, do as we were told and throw the note away.

As my children got older I started to do the same. I would go for a run and leave a note letting them know when I would be back or during the summer, I would leave for work before they got up and leave a to-do list or a note with my schedule on the kitchen counter. Inevitably I would get a text during the day asking when I would be home, which had been explained on said note. I would get home to find the note on the counter with a pile of stuff on it and obviously never read. So I started leaving the notes on the stairs. How could they miss it? When they come down for breakfast, they would see the note.

I would come home from work and find the note still on the stairs but miraculously the dishwasher had been emptied and the dog fed. When I asked if the note had been seen, the answer was always yes, but the notes remained. My children would literally bend over, read the note, and step over it to continue down the stairs. At some point I stopped picking up the notes and throwing them away. Instead, the next note was left a step or two further up. After a few days the notes would get pushed into a pile on the side of the stairs. NOT THROWN AWAY! 

It became a running joke in the family and the notes were never thrown out…just piled on top of the other notes. I was a little nostalgic today and read the first note…it was a note telling Ellie to meet me at 3:30 at the courthouse for our passport renewal. That was early 2022. The latest was just a month ago telling her to have fun with one of her girlfriends during Christmas break. Recently, I was visiting my parents and went for a run, leaving a note for Zach on the stairs letting him know when I would be back. It sat there all day.  When I looked at him with a “what the heck?” he just shrugged and said, “Habit” and walked away. 

Now when the kids are home I make it a point to leave notes with a little more detail; an event or even a date. Those notes have become our home chronicles. Whit and I still leave notes for each other on the counter, and yes, we do throw them away. Maybe I should add them to the pile? 

What’s with the shoe on the pile of notes, you ask. That’s a funny story, too. Read: Sole Survivor