i stood at the counter at the camera shop, in front of my friend, (a boy half my age: he's keeping up. i just got older, so did he...) and confessed what i find it hard to say to those who know and love me so much more than he ever will: i want to be an artist. i want to be better; a better photographer, a fuller person.
i stood at the counter at home, shredding chicken from the roasting pan with my bare hands, and all of a sudden my cats were my best friends. i considered making them give me a foot rub before they were given a small dish of scraps.
i've been doing a lot of sunday cooking this monday: the aforementioned roast chickens, the stock on the stove, the triple-batch of tomatoes roasting in the oven. i am ready for the week: for tomorrow, i go to work.
today, however, i was too sick to rally. and yet, rally i did. for there were three sick children and an un-well husband. so i found myself at the doctors first thing in the morning. then at the camera shop (film, above!!!), then the grocery, back home, sixteen bags unpacked. dinner begun, hugs and medicine distributed.
i am the mother.
today i looked in the mirror at myself on one of the trips back down the staircase, and had a thought: the girls will not so very far in the future tell someone they love that "my mother used to...." or "my mother had this..." or "my mother would always say..."
fill in the blanks.
who knows how they will fill in the blanks?
so the best i can do is my best, and be me, and hope that those spaces that i leave for them to decide about, to process and let fester or grow, nurture or quench, will somehow leave them feeling loved, and loving me.
i'm the mom.
more soon.
xo,
tt
