I woke up to a text from my Mom last Saturday morning.
“[…] [a friend] and I read your LifesLemons posts all night. She wanted me to tell you, she had goosebumps several times and thinks you’re an excellent writer. :)”
How sweet and admittedly, ironic. Did you tell her where I get it? Or tell her at least about those times, Mom, when I wasn’t remotely good, let alone, “excellent” at writing?
In middle and high school, I was downright bad at putting my thoughts to words and being assigned a 3-page paper was like being incarcerated- for the both of us. I would write as much as I could (which was usually about a paragraph and a half) before graveling at your feet, Mom, begging for help at approximately 8:45 the night before it was due.
Then, we’d spend the next four hours double-teaming (and tag-teaming) my paper, collaborating back and forth, thinking of things to say and exactly how to say them. It was agony, Mom, on that kitchen chair beside you and I’d complain that I could never be the writer that you are. Still you ignored, patiently (and sometimes not so patiently) showing me how to weave my choppy ideas into beautiful complete sentences.
Everything that I know about the flow and complexity of writing came from working beside you, Mom, during those priceless late night collaboration sessions. Now, the act is no longer a chore- but a solace and a hobby. I am truly lucky that you took the time to share your gift with me. You are where and the reason why, when it comes to writing, “I get it.”