Tuesday, April 14, 2020

Eighty Memories for Eighty Years: #55 Writing Memoirs

I began writing letters home to my folks in the 1960’s.

On visiting them one day, day I picked up a letter I had sent, re-read it and discovered that what I had been telling my mother things about my children that I had already forgotten. Memories of them dancing down a back alley, touching the fences of all of the neighbours, tapping them as though counting them off, one by one.

So I began to keep a copy of the letters I wrote home to her, so that I could remember how they skipped along on the sidewalk as they came home. I had a faint hope that someday my children would want to see their lives as I saw them.

When my children got old enough to have homes of their own, I still kept writing, this time to them. 

Still I kept copies.

About ten years ago, instead of sending letters by Canada Post to them, I started to blog memoirs– thanks to my son, Doral, who did the hard work of setting the blog up.

When I look back I can see from 1965 - 2020;  I think, wow, ideas now in back and white, set in paper.

A gift to me, the act of writing.

Arta

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