A Million Tiny Scratches

As I rock my very grumpy, teething baby back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, I stare at the afternoon sunbeams as they bounce off of our well worn living room floor.  I can see a million tiny scratches crisscrossing every which way, stretching from the chesterfield to the plant stands, from the goldfish aquarium to the fireplace.

Someone else might look at these scuffed up floorboards and think - time for a home renovation.  I look at them and see so many memories of the little boys who have stolen my heart.

I see tracks from a thousand Tonka truck and Thomas the Tank Engine journeys.  I see the boys pushing each other around in diaper box cars and laundry hamper trains.  I see hundreds of games of tug with the dogs and more iterations of indoor fetch than I can count.

In my mind's eye I can see so many hours of reading, colouring, mazes and puzzles laying on our tummies in front of the fireplace.  I see the invisible tread marks of the paths I trod when pacing back and forth during labour with each of my children.

I see the blankets we have spread out for indoor picnics and the ones we have draped over kitchen chairs dragged across the living room floor to make many a secret hideaway fort.

I see Christmas and birthday gifts being ripped open with abandon and impromptu dance parties with the boys' signature move ("guinea-ing").  I see a thousand hours spent playing Lego or building a hundred block towers for whichever child delights in knocking them over and yelling "Timber!".

I see the hundreds of hours spent rocking each of my babies back and forth, back and forth, back and forth during late night feedings, afternoon naps, when they were sick and when they just wanted Mama cuddles and lullabies.

These floor boards have been infused with the memories of my family.  Their imperfections are evidence of the perfection of my little life.