Jon's moms

I was at my daughter's house recently for the celebration of my grand daughter's first birthday. Actually, there was a house full of people helping to celebrate. At one point I found myself sitting in the entry den with two other women - my son in law's flesh and blood mother and his step mother. We three mothers had moved to this room because it was the coolest spot in the house. Jon's mother mentioned that she liked my writing and at this point his step mother said she liked my writing too. I was flattered.

Most of the time I enjoy writing. Writers tie a knot in time. They document what has transpired. Without writers it would be a lot harder to avoid repeating history. How would we know?

I was thinking about this very thing the other night... writing as a means to document what has gone before. I was laying in bed with my husband. He had already gone to sleep and the sound of his sleep apnea machine made a soft, soothing sound as he slept. I call it his dream machine because since he has started wearing it, he has recalled more dreams. He just calls it the "iron lung." The lights were out and the television played like a beacon in the dark. A program came on PBS. It was a presentation which had been recorded maybe 30 or 40 years ago. Before me was a choir of about 40 people wearing robes of white and tourquoise. Leaning back on my stack of pillows, it occurerd to me that many of these people were probably already in heaven. How many of them had gone home that day to some kind of horror or some kind of delight? And for an instant, there in the dark, I felt like I was looking back in time. I was actually looking back on a chunk of time from decades past. And I felt excited.

So how does this relate to Jon's moms in the den talking about writing. Well, that moment in time is now committed to writing. That moment in the den floats the internet. And who knows, maybe 30 years from this day, some person may accidentally pull up this blog and there they will read that 3 women sat and talked and celebrated the first year of life of a sweet little girl.