I just finished reading Lisa Jo Baker's post about being a motherless daughter and it reminded me of my own story. How my daughter will never know the woman who gave birth to me. To the woman I lived with for most of my childhood. In a way I am sad, but in a way I am relieved that she won't have to go through the peaks and valleys that my sister and I went through with her.
I also just finished thinking about my sister and how we have tried to take up the art of writing letters again. It's not easy and it's not as fast as sending an email or message on Facebook - but the joy of getting something besides bills in the mail is so nice.
Write: I used to write all the time. For class. Notes for friends. Letters to friends that I haven't seen since I moved away from wherever I used to live. Doodles when I was bored. I used to keep a journal where I could vent out my frustrations, hopes, dreams, worries about the future. I even started a "journal" for my daughter so that I could keep up with her milestones - because we all know that I am not going to keep up with a scrapbook. I was very good at writing things down at first. Then my job got more stressful, Bug became mobile...and then started running, SAM and I have sports that we play...blah, blah, blah.
Bottom line is - I don't write like I used to and I think that is a shame. So to the 2 people that read this I will do my very best to keep up with this blog. Who knows, it could be fun!
No comments:
Post a Comment