Storytelling

I am having my second cup of coffee on my deck for the first time. Sun shining through the branches that do not yet have leaves. Gorgeous. I woke up this morning thinking about the storytelling as one of the reasons I started this blog.

My mother and father were neither one storytellers. Consequently, I never really felt like I “knew them”. I felt I knew more about my father because he was an extrovert making friends with everyone and consequently he was reflected back through others. My mother who was in my father’s shadow. My father died unexpectedly before my mother. At his visitation my 4 siblings and I watched in amazement. as our mother emerged as a “Chatty Cathy”. Who was this woman? It was short-lived, but it was a window into who she was or might have been that I never knew.

I have never been much of a story teller (or at least I don’t think I am) for many aspects of my life. I have never thought my experiences were very interesting but I don’t my son to feel as I did at the end of my life, that he really didn’t who I was. I told him the other day that I regretted feeling like I did not know who my mother was. Because I have very few boundaries, he already knows more about me than I ever knew about my mother. My musings on this blog will be there for him whenever he wants to know more.