My mom sent me a link to a thirteen year old post on her own blog (jruthkelly.com) and it was pretty wild. My mom writes really well, and the post was a snapshot of a really distant and different time, though I still remember the things she mentioned pretty vividly.
I don’t really read my mom’s blog. I dunno why. She reads mine. (Hi mama. Love you.) I think when I was younger, I would get overwhelmingly emotional reading her writing sometimes (it’s intense) and I avoided that. Now I just don’t have the habit. I don’t even know if she still posts.
Life is so weird. Thinking about how much of myself I put out here, even if it’s largely surface stuff, makes me feel like I’ve missed a lot of my mom by ignoring her blog. That’s strange. I think of myself as knowing her well, but how much would I learn if I did read it? It’s a very odd feeling and I’m not sure where to put it.
And now I’ve just realized I’ve done the same thing with my dad, holy crap. I don’t even remember his site address.
My parents as people, not parents. Myself a parent, and also a person, wondering how well my kid will know me as myself in the future.
I digress.
Today has been calm. Erica is eating and playing as usual. Nate is upstairs working, so I’m taking a moment to myself for this and for stories in my brain (no I’m not writing them down rn). We might go to a park or on a walk later.
We took Erica to the park again a couple days ago, her second time ever. She had fun on the swing this time. Last time it just made her sleepy, lol.
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