Last night I looked at my old albums, and I cried.

Last night I pulled some old scrapbooks from my shelf, and looked through them. I've been feeling pretty overwhelmed lately -- working too far away from home, missing out on our family five days a week, and not enough time or energy to think, plan or do. Anything. For a good long while I've also felt overwhelmed and disconnected from memory keeping; my albums aren't cohesive, I feel like I'm missing out on telling our story, and I don't know what's wrong. 

But last night I looked at those layouts, ten year old memories, and cried. A sudden gasp, unexpected, and I squeaked "I'm missing so much!"   

I'm really grateful I had the opportunities I did, to document that nice life. Because it really was nice. And so precious. And fleeting. It was spent, so quickly. 

The motivation to remember those moments fleeting has been replaced by the burden of not wanting to forget, not being able to afford a mistake. 

I know, understand logically, that a moment documented is more valuable than ten forgotten, but decision making is not easy when it feels like everything will be lost before I've even realized it was found. 

I posted a much briefer version of these thoughts on Instagram last weekend, and before the work week started again, and challenge was born. Some fellow scrappers and I are doing a "just make something" challenge once a month. If you'd like to join us, check out our Facebook group, or #2Peas2remember on Instagram.