Mom or Mim?

My sister died three years ago – July 3, 2015.  My hope over her closing years, her collapsing body graced to the end with an awesome mind, was that she would write a book.  Maybe she did.  Alas, I was not her executor, so never sifted through the boxes of papers in her room, never heard of a manuscript – an incalculable loss.

At this moment in time, can appreciate the forces that might have stopped Mim.  I’ve dabbled in writin – outlined a book “Honor your father & your mother…”, started Badass Grandma (about Mom), penned a children’s book.  But write a book relating back to ME?

Yes.  Today, I waded into my fears & wrote the first sentence of Dream Reweaver – confessions of a positive deviant, return payment to a wondrously abundant Universe, a shout-out to my deeply rooted belief  that our Creator intends every living thing to celebrate life, from first breath to last.

Helping Mom was FUN.  Writing on my own – scary!

Mom didn’t write for posterity – she wrote for herself.  We focused on getting down what she wanted to share with me, sitting side by side, sending it out into cyberspace.  Just do the same.  Write for me, nothing else, nothing less.

Mom or Mim? Which do I emulate?

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Author: auntdeev

playfulness coach, life enthusiast & general instigator, ENTJ, cat lover

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