I've meant to be better about writing this year and so far I've failed miserably - both here and in my personal journal. Though I've started to Bullet Journal in place of my traditional planner and that has captured the other 10% of the space I'd use in my personal journal. There are a number of other goals that I have yet to begin, but I need to remember that it is only February and there are 10 other months left in the year.
My mother has been able to successfully start on one of her major goals - decluttering - and I could not resist asking her to send me a few of her old pattern books. I thought they might be useful items to sell in my Etsy shop and I am, therefore, considering it an investment in the future and not adding to my own clutter that desperately needs to be culled.
In the last six months, I cannot help but think of my mother and what she was like at my age. As a child you always have a limited understanding of your parents as people and it's only when you begin to live your own life that you wonder about theirs. I have found myself in the local art store coveting some of the fancier supplies they sell and wishing I had a dedicating space to work on projects. And then I remember the art corner my mother once had in our basement and all the amazing things she stored there.
Did she want to be an artist? Meaning a professional or semi-professional one that was able to create art that could be sold in coffee shops and local boutiques? I remember her sewing, cross stitching, and designing so many different things when I was younger. Had she ever considered working in a creative field like graphic design, cartooning, painting, or screen printing?
I always felt that my mother was this incredibly talented woman who could make anything. When I talk to her now, she will demur and say that she's not that good at x, y, or z thing when I know she is. She'll ask me to create things for her, that I know she could easily do herself, but for some reason she doesn't have the confidence that she could. I didn't develop my talents in a vacuum, they were learned from watching her or listening to her talk about her projects. So I wonder what happened between 36 and 65 to bring her to that point where she doubts her own abilities.
If I could go back in time, and meet my mother as a peer, what kind of person would she be? Would I be able to inspire her to follow some deeply hidden dream? What will I wish I had done now when I'm 65?
