Here's to the past...

Today I toast the past, the moments that made me who I am today.

I rarely look back at my childhood, mostly because I can't remember it. I, oddly, have no recollection of the moments that made me laugh, or cry, or scream in fright. I usually remember the embarrassing moments, but that's another story.

I do however occasionally remember things my mother used to do, and I laugh. One of my favorites was when I used to cry about not getting my way (a difficult reality for the only child of older parents) and she would say to me "Well, I'm going to join you then. The plants could use some more water anyway." I would get so angry that I would stop immediately, but then I would hold it against her and give her the silent treatment. Now that I'm a mother, I realize the silent treatment was probably her aim the whole time.

My mother was the greatest woman to ever live. She did nothing to make history books, or to win a Nobel prize, but she loved with more feeling than anyone else ever could. She was committed to everything and everyone she loved. I was blessed to be her daughter, and to have her watching over me now. I am always saddened by the fact that my children did not get to meet her. She is their guardian angel and will never leave them, but that they will not know her in this world is a loss I will not overcome. More than my not having her to support me, I wish she were here to raise them.

But, I moved along to the present, a topic for another day. The past is who I am now, as odd as it may seem. The moments I carry with me, in my heart, and in the soul I believe with all my heart I possess, those are the things that made me a strong, independent, caring, loving and insensitive woman.

I hope you like me as much as I do...

To new beginnings...

Today I toast to a new beginning. For years I have written my thoughts in journals, on random scraps of paper, and most recently in the notepad on my phone. I realize that keeping my words to myself is a mistake, because only by sharing them and having others read them will I grow as a writer.

As a little girl, I was convinced I was adopted. Stains on my hospital picture looked like earrings, but my ears were never pierced. I didn't look like my mother in the least, and I certainly had no talents for the arts to prove I descended from my sculptress/artist grandmother, my artist mother or my architect father. The older I got, however, the more I found that words came pouring out of me in streams of thought and joy that I never knew I possessed.

I don't claim to be a great writer, nor do I expect to go down as a master of my craft, but I would like to share my voice and thoughts. Perhaps it's the best way I know to show my emotions, the one thing my mother always felt I needed to be better at. I would like to post some of my older writings, as well as use this venue to share my new writings and get feedback from friends about how to improve. Mostly, pushing me to do more is what I always need in order to bring out my best.

I'm hoping that putting my life out there will make me take a deeper look, at the world around me, and at the world within me. It will be a journey to remember.