Our granddog-to-be, Bea, left nose prints on our living room window this weekend. Bea is Carrie's german shepherd and she's a sweetie. The nose prints remind me of something my mom talked about when Robert, Ryan and Lizzy were little.
Mama said after we'd visit there would be little hand prints all over their sliding glass doors. Those doors look from the dining/living room out over the deck, backyard and pool. Lizzy said her first word standing at that door, banging on it with tiny hands. Her first word was, "Guys." That's what I called the two boys all the time - "Guys, get in the car." "Guys, get out of the car." Mama realized what Lizzy was saying as she pressed up against the doors and yelled at her brothers in the back yard. (If you know Lizzy, not hard to believe that was her first word, is it?)
Mama said she'd intentionally leave the hand prints from all three kids on the door for weeks after we left to remind her of our visit.
Wonder what kind of prints I'm leaving around me? Do people want to remember I was there, or wipe away the evidence as soon as possible? There are conversations I participate in that I wish, almost immediately upon their conclusion, I'd never left my mark on. But it's too late.
Today I want to try, really try, to only leave reminders of how good the time with me was. Whether it's with Mike, or just the clerk at Kroger.
And, no, I haven't washed Bea's nose prints off, but I will soon - probably.