Last sunday, we took London for his 1st winter hike. It was cold & misty which is to be expected in the Cascade foothills of Washington but the sun wavered just so, peeking sporadically through the clouds, that it promised to be a beautiful day. I packed London’s snacks, extra diapers, a camera or two since inevitably one of them will loose power the moment I attempt to take a photo; and hoped that he would stay awake long enough to see the waterfall.
He did and as we scrambled down the trail, towards its base and felt the spray from the cascading water on our faces, I realized that that was London’s first waterfall. It was the first time in his nine months of life that he had witnessed one of nature’s pristine moments, that he wouldn’t get another first waterfall, and that I had picked well, for it was beautiful.
I know that he will never remember that day, that all the memories we are making together right now, at this moment, will be lost somewhere in his subconscious by the time he is ten. Yet I suppose the memories really are for me anyway. What we are doing, is what all good parents do, what my parents did with me, and that is building a foundation upon which his memories will grow; turning into something which both he and I will remember.