This is my bed. This is my kid. They’re not fancy, but they’re mine.
Lately, I’ve been making that bed almost every day. Sometimes (not always) Lucy and Arlo join me in this chore. Occasionally they even remind me to do it. It's becoming part of our routine; it's not something I would have ever intentionally prioritized, but a natural rhythm has emerged these past weeks.
As we make the bed, sometimes we talk about that top quilt which was a wedding gift from my mom. Othertimes we talk about my grama, Betty, who taught me to make a bed, including this stack & fold method that shows off each layer. Usually we talk about our plan for the day or whatever else comes up.
Today, while I was washing breakfast dishes and steeling myself for an afternoon of videoconferencing, Lucy surprised me by making the bed all on her own. "I made the bed just like your grama" she proudly told me, "with the quilt from my grama."
It's working. The conversations are happening and they are sticking. Two women who are so important to me are figuring into her daily life; they are real people, not names to be avoided or forgotten characters in someone else's story.
Folding stories into the rhythm of daily life creates ritual from routine. It is so much easier than we think. All we have to do is get out of the way and let it happen.