From One Pinecone to a Forest: What Bowling and Eggshell Memories Taught Me About Legacy

From One Pinecone to a Forest: What Bowling and Eggshell Memories Taught Me About Legacy

This morning, I held two pinecones in my hand—a dead one, dry and weathered, and a tiny baby one, just beginning to grow. Both came from the same branch.

I showed them to Barbi and Bella and said something that slipped out more like a revelation than a sentence:

“People don’t hoard things. They hold onto stories.”

We were packing for another bowling trip. Four bags loaded into the back of the car. And I remembered our very first one—just one ball, one jersey, and a little girl with fire in her spirit. We didn’t know what we were doing, but we knew it mattered.

That’s the thing about legacy. It isn’t about the trophies.

It’s about the moments between—loading the gear, saying the prayer, laughing at Woody tied to the back of a stranger’s truck.

It’s about preserving the pinecones.

And, sometimes… protecting the eggshell memories.

I’ve got a basket in the garage. One of those old wicker ones my mom used to have. Inside are bark pieces, pinecones, and memories. One day I picked up a broken eggshell on a walk and placed it inside—just like I used to do when I was little.

When I went to place the pinecones in the basket today, I accidentally tossed them in a little too quickly, and one bounced on the eggshell.

“Be careful,” I whispered to myself. “Don’t crush the eggshell memory.”

Because sometimes, in the rush to honor new moments, we forget to handle the old ones with care.

Just because something’s already cracked doesn’t mean it’s worthless.

Just because a memory feels faded doesn’t mean it should be buried.

Legacy isn’t about speed.

It’s about sacred handling.

So today, we didn’t just pack bowling bags.

We packed stories.

We loaded pinecones and remembered old trips.

We kept our eyes on the sliver of light in the cave, like Bella said—that’s hope.

Because from one pinecone to a forest, from one eggshell memory to a story remembered…

That’s how legacy grows.