Monday January 26, 2015
As many of you know, I just hosted a magical writing workshop with the amazing Nancy Aronie. Truth be told, it's a few weeks later and I am still beaming from the experience. A group of 14, thirteen women and one man, gathered together as strangers, but left forever in love, having shared deep and oft-hidden morsels of our souls.
Here is a piece I wrote in 10 minutes with the prompt: The hardest thing.....
I was told it is universal. I would love your comments. Much love to everyone!
The hardest thing…..
The hardest thing is watching my parents age. What is it about life that tricks us into thinking we stand still? That we, ourselves, are not aging. I carry around pieces of so many of my own stories. Sometimes I am the 15-year old full of innocence, other times I am the beat up career warrior with lawsuit scars, back stab wounds, and self-doubt. Then I am fat, skinny, beautiful, ugly, loved, hated, adored, gregarious, and shy.
I am my parents – tangled up in their stories. Their parts are my parts. It’s like from the time we are born, we are working on combing out the dreadlocks of connections – to find our own way, yet remain an integral part of theirs. Sometimes the comb gets stuck in a nasty knot of confusions and sadness – a mess. Then, like magic the comb slips through the now silky locks.
My parents have always been my true north. They have given me so much and, I guess, I received it. I welcomed their advice. I studied their warts. I fought to be my own compass.
And now, as I see them become vulnerable to the ravages of time, I get sad. Where will I be when they are gone? Have I done my job of honoring them and myself, equally, so that when the time comes, I am whole, and they are not a tangled mess of memories but a beautiful part of my forever fabric of being.
I love you Mom and Dad!! (And Jen, too!)