Clear or Dusty?
Living gratefully, I took in the simple pleasures of celebrating Mother's Day with my son Sam and husband Darcy. It was nice to see my stepchildren too; Emily in person, Arthur on screen.
It was a nicely-paced and pleasant day yesterday, aside from the cloudy and chilly weather. I called my mom early in the day. We are both morning people, so it's a good time to connect. She often makes comments about her failing memory. Yesterday, she said it in a new way that struck me.
She said "Sometimes my memory is pretty clear and sometimes it's dusty."
I feel that way in my peri-menopausal fifties, and it seems to be compounded the last couple of months by the stress and strain of pandemic circumstances. My brain is pretty mushy some days and I'm not clicking on all cylinders. I play word games on my phone to help keep my mind sharp. I fear dementia as I watch and hear what it is doing to my mom.
Mom can sometimes still pull out a memory from the past and share it pretty clearly. It gets dustier all the time though when she tries to recall who she is talking with, our families, what she has already done today, who may have visited recently, what day it is.
And I conclude how grateful I am that both of us have left a trail of journals and writing behind us in our decades of life. Mom isn't able to write anymore, but she captured so much in what she has written over the years and we have it for posterity's sake. What a gift.
There is a wealth of information in her words, and sometimes more emotions than I would have anticipated. From her as she wrote, from me as I read.
So I write on for both of us, and I treasure her words when I read them, and when she speaks them.
A writer's suggestion: Dust off a couple of memories you wish to capture. Start writing about them and bring the memory into clearer focus. You may be surprised by what you capture.
Or write a couple of gratitudes you are clearly experiencing in this moment and see how it removes, or at least lessens, the dust and dirt that build up in our perceptions of ourselves and the world around us.
Clear or dusty? You get to decide.
It was a nicely-paced and pleasant day yesterday, aside from the cloudy and chilly weather. I called my mom early in the day. We are both morning people, so it's a good time to connect. She often makes comments about her failing memory. Yesterday, she said it in a new way that struck me.
She said "Sometimes my memory is pretty clear and sometimes it's dusty."
I feel that way in my peri-menopausal fifties, and it seems to be compounded the last couple of months by the stress and strain of pandemic circumstances. My brain is pretty mushy some days and I'm not clicking on all cylinders. I play word games on my phone to help keep my mind sharp. I fear dementia as I watch and hear what it is doing to my mom.
Mom can sometimes still pull out a memory from the past and share it pretty clearly. It gets dustier all the time though when she tries to recall who she is talking with, our families, what she has already done today, who may have visited recently, what day it is.
And I conclude how grateful I am that both of us have left a trail of journals and writing behind us in our decades of life. Mom isn't able to write anymore, but she captured so much in what she has written over the years and we have it for posterity's sake. What a gift.
There is a wealth of information in her words, and sometimes more emotions than I would have anticipated. From her as she wrote, from me as I read.
So I write on for both of us, and I treasure her words when I read them, and when she speaks them.
A writer's suggestion: Dust off a couple of memories you wish to capture. Start writing about them and bring the memory into clearer focus. You may be surprised by what you capture.
Or write a couple of gratitudes you are clearly experiencing in this moment and see how it removes, or at least lessens, the dust and dirt that build up in our perceptions of ourselves and the world around us.
Clear or dusty? You get to decide.
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