Finding My Voice

Back when I decided to blog, I wasn’t sure of what I wanted to say, and what audience I wanted to address. I’m still not sure how that will develop. But as I continue with the blog, I find I like the process of writing a lot. Why? Because it’s interesting. I have to dig deep to find an authentic place to write from. I guess that makes for some (mostly) thoughtful blog posts. It sure has lead to a lot of soul-searching and some tears on my part.

I’m searching for my voice in many areas of my life these days, and it has become something of a spiritual quest. Very soon now, for the first time in almost 25 years, I won’t have children at home. I have no idea of how that will feel. I’ll always speak with the voice of a Mom, but it will be different after this summer.

It’s an emotional transition, and I’ve found that one of my strongest places of peace and grounding is the house we live in. It’s older, built in the ’20s, and is small but charming, a bungalow with lots of built-in shelves and cupboards and a sun room. Every time I clean the chandelier over the dining room table or open one of the cupboards I feel connected to every woman who lived here and who has done the same thing. I feel especially connected to the womanly ghosts of this house in the old garden. For instance, what woman planted the daffodils right outside the gate? They’re in a really inconvenient place, but you have to pass them to take out the trash. I just know a woman who lived here planted those daffodils, someone who wanted to see the first sign of spring. I look for them every spring, and expect she did too.

It’s comforting to know our house has witnessed a lot of life , and that life has left its mark here. It reminds me that life moves, but many things stay constant. Like the love a Mom has for her children, and the love they have for her . . . even though they’re not here every night to say “What’s for dinner?” I feel sometimes the house is wrapping its arms around me, reminding me to stay centered and live each moment as fully as possible. Our house reminds me we are all here for a time, we live our lives, we plant our daffodils, and ultimately we all move on. Buddah’s Wheel is always turning.

Enjoy your day.