*someone* said to talk about life and people and such...

and not just about what I eat, where I work out, etc...so this post is dedicated to that someone! Because there may be more like it and there may not, it may take some time for me to put my deeper thoughts in this blog! The photo/sketch in this post is of my mother. And everyone who is here and reading this probably knows me, so I don't have to explain what happened to her and why I'm posting what I'm about to post..... These are my thoughts about my mother and my mother's life...well my more recent thoughts (they change all of the time).


Was she stuck somewhere, more days than not? With the kids, with laundry and dishes and dirty toilets and crumbs on the floor? The same thing day after day.... did she desire change and travel? Did her interests revolve around children who needed the same thing all the time for their own security? Did she wonder 'what is the point of life when you work all day?' and did she wonder... 'what is the point of life when it is the same, every day, and you are never learning, never growing, never discovering anything new? what is the point when you are so tired at the end of every day that you can barely do what you like to do, let alone what you need to do?' I wonder how did she bring a sense of adventure into her suburban life when the only place she had to drive was to an elementary school, a library, a grocery store, and perhaps mcdonalds? How did she live the life she wanted to lead? Did she ever think to herself, 'I am lazy. It is too hard to go out with four kids.'? Did she ever think to herself, 'how can I make it work in the short time I have here?' How often did she think about doing something drastic? Did she know she was going to break the mold of our american existence?... Her children's american existence?...Her decision heavily influencing our father's decision to move to Europe. I wonder what her days were like in London? Without cooking for 6 and cleaning for 6 and shopping for 6, and only herself and my father to worry about. Except I know she didn't worry only about herself and my father. She always cared for us no matter where she was. I wonder if she knew that it didn't matter if we lived in a big city, or travelled to and from by train or bus, or if we had to even walk, or if we lived in a high-rise, or an old & small apartment, or if we lived in the country, in a one stoplight town where everyone knew us...I wonder if she knew it didn't matter? But I wonder if it mattered to her, and I wonder why?