tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7330030209576515508.post8173395087377679776..comments2023-09-28T07:15:13.372-05:00Comments on Achieving Clarity: Mother's DreamsMayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03485338098212307793noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7330030209576515508.post-63171199207135434202018-08-21T14:40:47.984-05:002018-08-21T14:40:47.984-05:00You gave me goosebumps. I saw my sister last week...You gave me goosebumps. I saw my sister last weekend and she passed me a box of photos she recently came across in things from my parents' house. It is filled with photos of me growing up and of photos I sent of them of my young & growing family. I have just started dividing them into stacks for my own kids, and am moving so slowly because I end up looking at each photo far too long recalling the times and dreams represented in each stage of life. Doesn't it feel like it has gone by too swiftly? And yet looking into the faces--my parents, my children, myself--I also feel like they are from a very hazy past that is somehow separate from me as well. It's all a bit surreal, and it leaves me feeling vaguely vulnerable. Mayhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03485338098212307793noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7330030209576515508.post-35331974525919638482018-08-21T14:10:14.729-05:002018-08-21T14:10:14.729-05:00There's just something about photos of our par...There's just something about photos of our parents when they were young, isn't there? Before they became the people we got to know, when everything was wide open for them. More and more, I feel that way now when I look at photos of myself when I was young. They seem to be from a long ago time, even as the years have passed so swiftly, and I find myself wondering what it was that young girl wanted and how she would feel about what she ended up getting. She is me, but she also feels like someone not-me. Ritahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01067473411257316931noreply@blogger.com