Ten years ago today, I wrote about Martin Luther King Day and my daughter, Clara.
It’s the epitome of why I write so much. Had I not taken the time to record this moment a decade ago, it would have been lost to me (and Clara) (and the world) forever.
Instead, I “took care of my future self” (a phrase I use often) by sitting down and recording a meaningful moment from day 3,652 days ago.
I read it this morning, and like magic, the moment returned to me with enormous clarity. I found myself swimming in the waters of January 2014. I was sitting on a green couch I no longer own, talking with a little girl who is now a teenager.
Homework for Life. Journaling. A daily blog. Somehow, some way, spend a few moments each day holding onto the things most precious in our lives:
Our memories of meaningful time spent with friends, loved ones, and ourselves.
Your future self will be so happy you did.
Here’s what I wrote that day:
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I told my four-year-old daughter I didn’t have to work because it was Martin Luther King Day. “That’s a day when we celebrate the life of a man named Martin Luther King.”
“I know,” she said, almost dismissively.
“You know about Martin Luther King?”
“Yes,” she said. “We read a book about him in school. And we talked about him.”
I was impressed. “What do you know about him?”
“He was a man who was shot and had to die,” she said. “He helped a lot of people.”
I was a little surprised that she even knew what being shot meant (and maybe she doesn’t), but I pressed on. “How did he help people?”
“He taught people how to share. No matter what color they are. That’s why I sometimes have a hard time sharing. Because someone had to shoot him, so now he’s not here anymore to help me anymore.”
She sounded annoyed. Angry, even. Like someone had taken Martin Luther King away from her, which is essentially true.
Not bad.
A basic understanding of Dr. King’s message, wrapped up in the self-centeredness of a four-year-old child.
