What record will you leave?

In the garage, along one of the wooden beams, written in pencil, are dates when Mom and Dad’s house was painted. Leftover from the previous owners, it tells the tale of when the trim was put up, the color and when they painted the exterior of the house, along with a couple of other interesting little notations. They left their mark on things they did, a reminder for themselves, a record for anyone after them. 

I was working on something in the garage the other night when I noticed it. Dad made his mark on this house, as I know he has in all the houses he has lived in. Written on the workbench he made was a list of the trees and shrubs he planted around the house, throughout the years of residence here. Plants he was so proud of. Plants that he put so much forethought into purchasing. Plants he he designed with the knowledge that they would be living creatures blossoming long after he was gone, long after we were all gone, from this house, from this earth. He left his mark, a record of his actions in this house, just like the previous tenants. 
What record will you leave?