Sometimes I wonder why I write.
Why do I get cozy with my lap top and pour my heart out to cyber space? I know there are readers, but really.... I do not know everyone that reads here and I do not know how often my words are read. So.... Why do I take time out from a VERY busy day and start typing?
As a little girl, my favorite subject was always writing. It started with just handwriting. I loved to make letters look pretty on paper. I remember asking a friend who was a year older than me to teach me to write cursive. We weren't doing that at school yet, but I was ready! She sat with me many afternoons and showed me stroke by stroke. I was more than proud to be the only one in my class to be able to write cursive! It wasn't just cursive either... It was art for me.
From that point on, I put pen to paper frequently. I loved receiving writing assignments and I loved even more to write in my own journals at home. I went through a time in life (as most teenage girls do) when my writing was a little on the depressing side, but it was me. It was my heart.
When I met J, I kept journals about how our relationship was developing. I wrote "love letters" to him, all tucked into a hard bound book. With each of my pregnancies, and even after their births, I wrote letters to my children. I spoke of every emotion that took over my mind as a new mommy. I wrote specific prayers in those journals. They like to read those today. So special.
When we lost our two boys to pre-term birth, the first thing I wanted to do after I gathered myself was write. I wrote literally pages. I still have all of these. Every journal, every page I've ever put my writing on. I keep them in a box. Now I have this neat little place to do all of my writing... It's called a blog.
I write here because writing is what I've always done. I guess a part of me wonders if someday I will be one who will sit underneath a cute little window that overlooks wildflowers and green fields while I gather writings from yesterday, today and tomorrow and put them into a book. The thought intrigues me, but then I wonder... Who would read it? Would it really be significant enough to anyone else to read, or are my thoughts just that... MY thoughts?
I know this. I know that the only ones that I desire to read any of the things kept neatly in this space all of these years is my husband and these boys of mine. Oh, and perhaps even grandchildren down the road. Maybe someday they will read these pages and they will see my heart better. They will see where I have learned and where I have failed. They will see life's ups and it's downs and the way I chose to ride. Hopefully what they will see is good. I've tried my best to admit my shortcomings and faults here so that it's never hard to notice the growth.
So I guess I write because if I didn't, my heart would feel under water... Flooded. I don't write to be noticed or even complimented (although it's nice to hear when I've written something that spoke to someone else's heart). I write because I want to leave a part of me... On paper.
Since from the beginning, paper and ink have always been a big part of who I am. It continues to be just that.