There is something endearing about the little (and big) trails left behind by my little loves. Reminders that I no longer live in a perfectly curated, organized house of my pre-child, family days, but rather a home filled with love, play, laughter, chaos, wild imaginary adventures, and messes…lots and lots of messes. On most days, the messes seem overwhelming and annoying–just another pile of stuff to clean up, but at closer look I’ve come to appreciate them as small memories from our bigger world together. These are the days that our lives are one and our spaces intertwine and overlap. One day, I’ll walk through the house in the middle of the night and there will be no trains or dinosaurs or tigers to trip over, the only shoes to put away will be mine and Christopher’s, the house will be “quiet,” and I’ll wish my boys were little again. These are the days, and things, and memories I want to keep with me forever…the everyday messes that tell the stories of my little boys.