When Fieldtrips are Fewer, But the Memories Mean More
Do you ever scroll through your day’s photos before bed?
I do. Not every night, but on the days where we did something special, or, I have something fun to look back on… those are the ones that tug at me to look at over and over again.
Monday night was one of those nights. Not because anything extraordinary happened, but because something simple did.
A day at the zoo.
It’s been years since we last went. When my kids were little, the zoo was a whole-day event… snacks packed, stroller loaded, sunscreen slathered on tiny cheeks. Their excitement was contagious, and every animal sighting felt like a discovery.
But as we walked toward the entrance this time, I realized something:
We may have aged out.
And yet… I’m not ready for that. Thankfully, neither is my daughter.
She loves animals. And loves to learn about them. So our conversations revolved around the animals’ habitats – are they big enough, do they have enough room to roam, and to spread their wings? Are the animals happy? What do they eat? Do they thrive better with others or on their own? This trip was definitely different. It was quieter, more thoughtful. Less about seeing and more about understanding.
We saw an Okapi pacing back and forth in front of a locked gate. Came to find out, there was another one just on the other side. We think he wanted to go socialize. So, we came up with a story about it.
It’s a different kind of magic.
And it reminded me of all those “firsts” we once had - first visit to the zoo, first time apple picking, first trip to the pumpkin patch, first time seeing holiday lights. So many firsts. And, those early years and the repeat visits were still filled with energy and excitement.
Those moments used to fill our calendar, back when everything was new and the wonder came easily.
Now, those days are fewer and farther between.
When they do happen, they’re often met with a mix of excitement… and maybe a little teenage eye roll. A sigh. A “Do we have to?”
Still I hold on…
Because even if there’s a bit of complaining because they’re “too busy” or they’d rather be doing something else, I know (or, at least I hope) that deep down these moments still matter.
They matter to me, and maybe to them too.
For our day at the zoo, I was only allowed to take three photos. Only. Three.
And while the mom in me wanted more, wanted to capture every glance, every laugh, every giraffe sighting , I honored the request. I took my three photos carefully, choosing the angles and backdrops with intention.
And you know what? Those three photos are perfect.
Because they forced me to be present. To notice the sun, clouds, breeze and others around us. The sound of her questions and, her commentary.
Sometimes our kids teach us what we didn’t even realize we needed to learn.
The “photo quota”, as frustrating as it can feel, is their way of telling us, “Be here, Mom. Not behind the lens. Be here. With me.”
And maybe they’re right. Maybe there’s a kind of beauty in not capturing everything. In letting some memories live only in the heart.
So, if you find yourself scrolling through your photos tonight, I hope they make you smile, not just for what has passed, but for what’s still to come. Because the truth is, there’s still so much ahead to look forward to.
The relationship changes, yes, but the connection deepens. The conversations grow richer. The moments, though fewer, become more meaningful.
And that’s the real magic of it all…. Learning to let go of what was, while staying grateful for what is.
Every photo we take, and every moment we don’t, tells a piece of our story. If you’ve been thinking about how to honor those memories, even the quiet ones, I’d love to help you find a way to keep them close. Let’s start the conversation.
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