the ripple effect….

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Sometimes writing a blog can have a ripple effect….

On Friday I wrote a piece about having an hour to spend talking with my mom, who passed away eight years ago. The idea sprang from a picture some one pinned to their wall on Facebook that I happened to see. I was also tired of writing about my kids inability to clean up after themselves… I mean really, who needs to know my frustrations over the fact my kids are as normal and messy as I was growing up? After a while why would any of you continue to read this same story (rant) told over and over again? I needed something different…to change my focus….to make the writing process fun again.

What I had not intended were the responses I received:

When I finished reading the blog aloud, my husband said, “Wow that’s a good one…yes that was good” yet in a subdued tone. “Really?” I asked, skeptical of his reply. He seemed a little off-until later when he conveyed he was thinking about his own Dad and the conversation he would have had with him…

I read the blog aloud to my children, who on average don’t like that I write about them on a daily basis. Whenever I ask them if I can read it aloud to them, they give me that “Something I have to put up with” look and then pray they won’t be cringing from the contents of my report. When I came to the part about trying to talk better to them the doll quipped, “Yeah right!” sarcastically but added at the end “You need to listen to your mom’s advice”. “Doll, I know I can come across harsh…its not intentional, honest. I think its more about me being tired above everything else. But please, never ever mistake my poor tone of voice for my lack of loving you and your brother. Because there is no contest there. And at least I acknowledged that I’m aware of my tone of voice. That has to account for something.” She thought for a moment and then added, “Whatever, mom”.

The boy, wanting to stay as far under the radar as possible only said, “I love you mama” which was more akin to “No comment” than anything else…and that was fine too.

Yesterday after I shoveled my dad’s driveway, I had a nice conversation with him and my sister Ann Marie. “Marsha wrote a nice little story about mom on Friday” she told him. “I’d like you to read it to me later…” He replied and then added, “What was it about?” A little embarrassed I filled in the blanks…”If you were given one hour to talk with anyone who’s passed away, who would it be?” A whimsical smile crossed his face as he said, “I’d have to say my Dad”. Then he began telling us about my Grandfather-a man who passed away long before I was born.  As he recalled his loving memories of the man who helped shape his life, his eyes welled with tears. Wiping them away he looked back at the both of us a bit sheepish and then added “Yes, what a conversation that would be…”

Lastly a little accolade for me…Jill Hurst, a professional writer for television and web series read the blog and called it “Lovely”. I’ve been floating on that comment since Friday. Perhaps I can write something worthwhile every now and again. Thanks for reading all the inbetweens…and sticking with me.

 

 

 

 

 

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