For those of us who has a hard time letting go of old things.
"Most of the material possessions we treasure came with us. But one thing
we couldn’t bring. The wall where we stood our children to measure
their growth. All four of them were basketball players, so height was a
thing to be prized and recorded often by their coach dad. The wall shows
clearly the date when our oldest son shot past Mom’s five-foot-eight
mark, and then Dad’s five-foot-ten. That wall bragged about the year our
youngest son grew three inches in one summer. There were marks three
feet from the floor where the tip-top of our tagalong baby’s head
reached—marks lovingly recorded by her proud big sister, balancing a
ruler atop the toddler’s head. There were marks near the floor for our
black cat Frosty. (Do you measure a cat standing or sitting. Is his
height from foot to shoulder, or foot to head?) All those roughly
sketched pencil lines and occasionally accompanying commentary told a
happy story. But some stories are history, and they can’t easily be
brought with us to the future." Read more here