Do you write a yearly letter? Part update, part family history, part lost art… letters keep us connected.
Celebrating Birth-days
You celebrate your children’s birthdays, your husband’s, and your own birthday, but do you also celebrate you on the day you gave birth? I do. Which means I have 6 extra birth-days a year, and I deserve a bit of celebration myself on every one of them. 15 years ago today I gave birth to child #6 (not in my plans, but then neither was #1, or #5, all girls by the way; the ones we planned turned out to be boys…) I was 47. We went dancing that weekend, because, why not celebrate? And get this party started! Our oldest daughter was pregnant with our first grandchild, who was born five months later. She went dancing with us that night. Today, on the day I gave birth to my third daughter, I celebrated with a spa-bath (triangular tub, lavendar bath salts, time to relax and breathe deep), in the…
A New Thought for Today
I have lots of old thoughts that circulate regularly so when a new thought flits by I notice it and see if it’s one I want to keep. Today’s thought, early on this Sunday morning Mother’s Day, was about privilege, a hot topic and one I’ve been entertaining in new ways. This new thought took me by surprise, as new thoughts often do, being new. It was a privilege to be my mother’s daughter. Many of you might think these kinds of thoughts quite often; I confess that I haven’t had a lot of thoughts like this, but the thought seemed beautiful to me. I decided it could stay, that I would like to think this way more. It is a thought that serves me well. After it came another I liked equally well, maybe even better: It’s a privilege to be a mother of my three daughters (three sons…
The Daughter of 21 Years Ago
I have three daughters, born in three different decades, all with the same father, but very different from each other, if for no other reason than they were each born in essentially separate generations. Each daughter thinks she had a different upbringing than her sisters, and I suppose that’s true. In fact, the youngest one never lived with the oldest. And the middle one never lived in the house or state where the youngest one has spent most of her life. And we are different parents in our 60s than we were in our 20s, with better resources, but also more challenges, like a pandemic. On birthdays, the daughters often compare gifts–what they remember of the gifts they got at the same age. It’s mostly done with a good bit of fun. The daughter who is 21 today is sure the youngest has gotten more than she did at her…
Are You My Mother?
Are You My Mother?
The Unexpected Cheese-white cheddar laced with parmesan- is the sample offering at Trader Joe’s as I run in to get a few groceries before heading back for my daughter at ice skating. I take one, happy to see it’s finger food. All their samples can be finger food, even the slaws and salads, eaten in a few bites without the plastic-wrapped-plastic-fork, but then you need a napkin. I add the cheese to my cart, then turn back for the coffee sample, wishing I had my double-wall espresso cup in my bag, but I’ve gotten careless. A slender lady in a tailored gray wool coat is taking her time getting coffee, adding cream, stirring, tasting. Her cart is pulled across the sampling space and people are starting to line up. I move to one side of her, slip around to nab a tiny cup. She looks at me, then steps back…
A Novel Memoir
The Far Field by Madhuri Vijay is a stunning novel that reads like an amazing memoir, illustrating how we carry our mothers with us. Shalini, the narrator can’t seem to shake, or outdrink, or out think her dead mother. The mother, whose death is a mystery until near the end, shapes the narrative in many evocative ways as it carries the reader through the steep mountain sides of the Kashmiri region of India on an unforgettable, and possibly unredeemable, journey. I find myself taking notes, marking passages, returning and rereading to see how such a young author pulled off this feat in her first book. This is the type of book writers study. It is the kind of novel I will read again, as much for the story as the writing. Actually the story feels deeply sad and very real, as if I’m experiencing it as it unfolds; it is…
Of Winning with Daughters
Sometimes the most powerful words are your own, recited back to you. Lily is a poet. At 16 she won the Central Oregon Writers Guild poetry award. She won it again this year and I won an award for non-fiction so we each read our pieces at the awards ceremony, mother and daughter. My story started as a letter to her, wrapped around one of her poems, a collage of sorts, hoping to be a collaboration. Here’s the story: Such Unkind Things The way your dark mascara dripped and blurred under your eyes when you peeked out from behind your pink blankie made me think of a Pierrot doll, and I asked if you were okay. Your whispered response turned into a sobbing storm when I encircled you with outstretched arms, and I thought, How much are you willing to put up with? I see you reaching for this mechanical…
May is Motherhood Memoir Month
You don’t have to be a mother-everyone has a motherhood story; it’s where you begin.
The journal is a momentary call back to childhood, a reminder of where they came from, who they are at the core.
Power of the Journal
Journals provide a reliable path to revisit childhood; they reinforce the relevance of childhood and family as our children grow into adults.