Writing and Remembering

Tucked deeply inside one of my dusty storage boxes is a folder full of yellowing pages—short stories I penned once upon a time as a youngster. One in particular stands out in my memory: Mr. Green Jeans, a story about a horse and a little girl. I can also claim authorship to a good many “Readers’ Theaters” (remember those?), of which my teachers were always way too kind to allow my friends and me to perform in front of the whole class. Oh, I get red-faced just thinking about it! Thinking back on those embarrassing elementary school writing days, I guess I could say that I have always dreamed of being a writer.

My inspiration usually comes while I am running the vacuum or mowing the lawn. Maybe that is because as the mother of three children, I have very few other quiet times to think! Once the vacuum is tucked back into the closet or the mower is shoved back into the shed, I rush to the computer to type out my thoughts for the day.

Writing allows me to feel somewhat intelligent among the diapers and duties of a stay-at-home mom. I love being a woman and a mother; however, sometimes my world feels very small. But, I am confident that every person has an interesting story to tell, and truthfully, I am interested in everyone’s story. The written word opens the door to an endless array of interesting persons and places.

I fuel my passion by reading everything I can get my hands on. I enjoy everything from classics to cereal boxes. In my efforts to devour the written word, I have gained access to the thoughts of so many different types of people. They inspire me. And, because I love reading so much, I am driven to write as well. I particularly enjoy writing essays about everyday life and sprinkling lots of sentimental mush into my stories. Of course, anytime one writes about life with a husband and young children, humor seems to be a fitting theme as well.

As my days roll into years, I am always grateful for the little tidbits I have written about our family. Memories are preserved—my version, anyway—and stories are saved. The children love to hear about themselves and, of course, I love to read to them. I cherish my many journals. Those are the most important, but someday I’ll finish the novel I’m working on…someday…

Writing is the welcome mat into one's world. I write to give back. I write for my children. I write to welcome others into my world. Those who write, remember. And, those who have written are remembered.