Why write?

Just the other day I found myself, once again, explaining to someone why I blog. The truth is, before I started, I hadn't really realized that something that had always been part of my life had been absent for quite some time. When I started this page- started typing away and letting friends, as well as strangers, into some intimate parts of my life, I felt a little renewed.

I used to be an avid scrapbooker...you know, the late-nighters, the tubs upon tubs of supplies, and of course the $$...all to document my kids' lives forever. Well, it all became too much, too overwhelming. But, a big part of my scrapbooking was journaling. I loved to write long, detailed stories about our lives. I guess those scrapbooks became my writing outlet. I missed it.

Blogging has brought me back. I love to let the world know what goes on in my little world. Sharing the silly, cute kid stories allows me to be a little indulgent and celebrate my little kiddos. And...writing about the struggles and tragedies allow me to move forward, a little bit at a time. Sharing details about my mom frees me to let go of the sadness. I want the world to know who she was.

My mom was an amazing writer. She loved language and she had even penned the first line of the novel she would one day write. Some of the most beautiful, enlightened poetry flowed out of her. Everything was exquisite, from the carefully chosen words to the absolute perfect handwriting. She had the most beautiful handwriting I have ever seen! She was, in every sense...a WRITER. I don't have quite the gift she had, but I surely have the desire and innate need to put pen to paper. Thanks, Mom.

We drank

expresso

in our coffee-house days

and listened to Ginsberg and Ferlinghetti

confirm

what we already knew.

We boycotted

college classes and grapes

and

followed

Jack Kerouac

down

an unchartered highway.

And now,

(stuffed to middle-class perfection)

we search

the eyes of strangers

for the

soul of a revolutionary.

~written by my mom (the forever hippie)