Over the years I have spent more time than I can count reading and scanning the
internet for sites filled with family stories, recipes, information needed for my children’s
school work etc.
It’s endless in its ability to give us almost every kind of information we need (and
sometimes don’t).
People connect and bond over relationships, children, jobs, religion, politics, good
health, bad health-the list goes on and on.
I found sites that informed me, sites that inspired me, sites that comforted me, sites
that brought me laughter.
So many things can happen when we are able to read words and connect with people
from all over the world.
We can read about different parenting experiences.
We can find recipes and make something new every day for the rest of our lives.
We can find just about every kind of advice there is and find pages and pages of
people sharing their hopes, dreams and inspirations.
When I was a younger Mama, I thought about making a Blog for my children that
would talk about my own childhood as well as my joys and struggles being a Mama.
Just everyday things I wanted to share with them.
Time went on and my thoughts, though many, remained unwritten.
Today my 3 children have grown into young men and the thoughts I wished to share
about my childhood and being their Mama have moved a bit to the side.
I have so often heard that writing can bring a person peace and comfort.
A therapy of sorts for some people.
I envy that.
I want that.
I’m not sure if that’s why I finally decided to start writing things down or not.
All I know is that at the age of 52, as life is crumbling all around me, my fingers have
finally started writing.
I’m not sure why yet.
I’m not sure what exactly I plan to write.
I’m not sure if I will regret it or not.
Will I share more than I should?
Will I not share enough out of fear and embarrassment?
Oh, how I wish I was writing about that amazing life I once hoped my children,
grandchildren and great grandchildren would admire me for.
It is far, far from it.
But perhaps the person who may start out as the whiny, scared, rambling woman who
feels terribly, terribly lost right now, will turn into the woman who finds the inner
peace and strength to finally be the person she hoped her children, grandchildren and
great grandchildren would one day admire.
And maybe, just maybe, somewhere in the midst of all the writing, she will find herself
again.
Even if it’s just little pieces at a time…