Dear Dylan, Ruby, and Hope, When I started this experiment ten years ago, I wish I could tell you I had some sort of grand foresight about what all of this would become. I did not. Dylan and Ruby, you were so little. Hope you did not even exist yet! Dad traveled all the time for work. We were living in a new town. I missed my friends, my sisters and Grandma. I missed me. I know that sounds odd and yet that’s how I felt. That I had steadily been this one person for 30 years and almost overnight it had all flipped. Suddenly I was a mother and just a few short months later my own mom was gone. A year went by and I was pregnant again. Life just kept going which is exactly how it should be. Life just keeps going whether you are ready for it or not. But I felt so lost. It wasn’t specifically that I didn’t know where I was heading. Honestly, none of us ever do. And spending too much time hand wringing over that isn’t really worth it. It was more like everything felt so upside down for so l
I’ve been spending these past few weeks rereading many of my own old blog posts. In March, My Jenn-eration will be ten years old. I rarely stick with anything. That isn’t a criticism of myself but more just a fact. I drift from one thing to the next but here I stayed, I lingered and reflected on a particular chapter of my life. If I hadn’t written it down as I did, I’m not sure I would have remembered any of it, the way my grief for my mother felt early on, or the way that sleep deprived, bone deep love of early motherhood took hold of me. All of it, was such a jumble of all the things. I was so deep in the living it that if I hadn’t taken a moment to just step back, well I’m not sure I would be able to recall any of it. In the life I lead now, in the way I love a parent with Alzheimers, I wonder how much any of that matters. If in the living of this thing, does it matter as much specifically whether or not we recall any of it? The moments happened whether we get to travel back to them