a moleskin and a few random journals from my desk
When we were cleaning out mom’s desk a few weeks ago, we found a few spiral bound notebooks. Inside she had kept track of a time in her life that was full of change and uncertainty. I didn’t need to read more than the first few lines to recall that time. And I didn’t read on because it felt too personal, but it has caused me to think of mom in a new light. Even though we have grown to be friends, there are so many pieces of her life that I don’t know about. Those moments of doubt and sadness. The depth of grief she may have experienced when her parents died. The joys and pains of being a mother to five very different children. I imagine some of that is in these journals. But it makes me think that right now, while she is still here, I need to ask her those questions, to hear her tell the story of those moments. One thing I have discovered about mom’s Alzheimer’s journey is that it is much easier for her to talk of the past. So one of these lovely journals might become my place to record those conversations with mom as we enter the new year.
A friend returned from a month working in Uganda and was talking about her time spent in London on the way home. She had seen this message on other trips but after being in the village, working with families who have so little, the words took on new meaning. There is a gap between the life we know and the life being lived in other countries.
It is almost impossible to believe that one day, I could lose the ability to name the colors in my world, that I wouldn’t know how to pack dishes or what my daughters like on their sandwich. Watching mom lose these bits and pieces of her memory have made me want to pay attention to everything, to take pictures, to write it down. It wouldn’t make a difference in the end but for now, I am trying to remember to look up.
My grandmother was a reader. I remember when she took me to the new library in our little town. 
lining up my words 