In my old journals are letters; one received from Mom in 1998. In one she wrote “We meant what that card says” and I wondered what that was.
To get through the years of journals (I’ve come from 1975 to 1998 since beginning this time-consuming endeavour), I’m daily reading the entry from one date only, each day. Otherwise it doesn’t happen. It’s like housecleaning: if I start even one small task, I’m likely to keep on going and because I don’t want to do that, I don’t start. But if I tell myself I’m only going to read (or do) the one and won’t be committed to any more, I’m more likely to do my own bidding (i.e. the routines/habits that I know are best for me). It’s the same with yoga (just the sun salutation, that’s all I have to do right now!) and the walks (just to the end of the driveway, that’s all I have to do right now!). I make these promises in order to motivate myself and they work, though once I’m in the doing, continuing is more appealing than quitting. Which is a good thing usually.
Feb. 03, 1998: Received birthday card from Mom and Dad. It says “You have always been a good daughter to us, and your love and friendship are a comfort to us.” (Paraphrased)
The sentiment is part of a store-bought card but still I got teary, which surprised me. Guess I’d like to hear them say that.
Me and Liz, my first friend and roommate in the girls’ dorm in Regina in Grade 10, Sept. 1975. You can almost see can’t you — look at that face — what a willful, arrogant daughter I must’ve been. Liz is wearing the fuzzy jacket she wore on the day we met, and we are at Aunt Jean’s in Saskatoon. How did we get there? Why? If only I still had the old journal — HA!