I love the beauty of the stories that I have read on Coffee and Crumbs and their book, the Magic of Motherhood. I so appreciate the reflections from Risen Motherhood and that they are lessons which come from experiences, stories, events in their lives.
I see writing as a way to be thoughtful, wanting to put your moments into words forces one to be more present and attentive to the details of life.
I have experienced more chills up my spine, more deep breaths of gratitude and more smiles of joy from being present and observing the details of my daughter playing, my husband working in the garden, my dog, barking for the 12,000th time at the neighbors dog as they walk by our front yard.
The beauty in the mundane is what I want to capture, bottle and revisit whenever the heck I want. My internal memory has already failed me too many times to not write.
I want to record stories. How I feel. Memories. I think this is part of my minimalist journey. Not wanting to collect things, but to put into words the moments and feelings that actually makeup who we are. Who I am.
The ticket stub from seeing Black Panther in theaters doesn’t really bring me any memories or good feelings, other than saying, “Yep, I saw that movie, look here’s proof.”
It’s the other elements of life, the breeze in my daughter’s hair that flips up her extra-long curl in the back, the slobber of our dog on the front left window as he barks at neighboring dogs, the constant reminder to my husband that he has some coffee on his beard.
These moments remind me where I am, and in a few years, they will bring me back to this time and season of life.
