My huge apologies for the wonky formatting this week. I have had great difficulty with my software and Substack, and have not been able to get a response from them yet. Hope you can overlook the messiness!
Aww, thanks for including me in your essay! This was my very favorite of yours so far (and not just because my name is in it) - somehow your feeling of not connecting and feeling vulnerable totally connected for me. So just because the soup isn't ready for you doesn't mean it's not flavorful and hearty for someone else!
I also stumbled on stuff of my mom's after she died that brought up all sorts of conflicting emotions. Love letters from my dad, old articles she'd saved, a long message in her high school yearbook from a boyfriend I'd never even heard of. And at that point there's no one left to ask about it. It's odd to think of your parents as having lives that you didn't really know about. I stuffed all my mom's memorabilia in a desk thinking I'd go back, but I still can't get myself to open the drawer. Maybe someday when I'm ready for that collage to come together...
Oh Eileen! You captured exactly what I did with all those letters and newspaper clippings the first time I saw them. I couldn't cope with all the emotion and I'm pretty sure that is why I had 'forgotten' all about them until stumbling across them the other day. I couldn't even read the love letters from my father after seeing his signature. Maybe someday you and I will have to hide away somewhere and go through those letters together and we can rebuild a new collage. I'm glad you found something that resonated with you in that soup!
I love the uncooked soup metaphor. It’s a perfect description of the time, patience, and ingredients it takes to put together something worthwhile, meaningful, and nutritious. Maybe a little more salt ( a lot more in my case) or a pinch of another spice will bring it to life.
It must be amazing to read your mother’s letters to get to know a part of her you did not experience and ponder those with the mother you did know. I’m eager to hear what you figure out and understand after reading them.
Your writings impress and provoke me into thinking about regular things in a different light. I love reading them.
Thanks dear friend. I think this essay is still in the tepid soup state, and in my frustration with technical issues published it before it simmered a bit longer. But live, learn more and keep at it. Thanks for always being there.
I have a stack of letters that my Dad wrote to his mom and dad: his senior year in college, from the boys’ camp he ran, law school, and finally, as a young father with his firstborn (me!). It is such a wonderful glimpse into who he was, and so foreign for me, as he was always the smart, confident father (juxtaposed with the uncertain young man in the letters). They are so special, as my aunt found them in my grandmother’s effects, years after both she and my dad had passed.
Oh how wonderful!!! Such a great opportunity to learn about your dad when we was learning to be a grownup. Did you recognise anything of yourself in his letters? I'm still nervous to dip into my box of letters, but I will get there soon. My curiosity is starting to outweigh my nerves!
Such a gorgeous post on the fabric of life, Sabrina. Eileen's collage is beautiful, and your words so poignant. That rabbit hole you're exploring - wow, I think I'd be feeling overwhelmed - discoveries such as those can transport us into all sorts of other places and open doors to rooms we perhaps had forgotten were there.
As for six weeks on the Isle of Wight this summer, you have no idea how close I have been to saying: 'SIGN ME UP!' I'm imagining a glorious six-week self-led solo writing, hiking and squirrelling retreat... but it's sadly not on the cards! 🐿️
'Those rooms we perhaps had forgotten': nice imagery and very evocative of what's been going through my head. Well I do hope if you can't come for the full six weeks that maybe you can come another time when we are here so you and I can go for a nice long walk together. That would be even better from my perspective!
Yes, I have those days a lot it seems. I feel like my brain is muddled, almost too full, and I can’t really focus on any one thing and make it pop out.
I really like your description of brain being muddled and that it is too full for any one thing to pop out! That is really whet it feels like. I'm hoping we all just need some longer sunny days to jump- start our brains and get more physical outside activity!
Hi Sabrina! Thank you for another thought provoking and lovely post - and I didn’t even notice any formatting problems! I totally identify with the disjointed feelings you described so well...this past Monday I felt EXACTLY what you described and thought oh ugh, what do I do to get myself out of this fog? But then the next morning much of the fog had shifted, even though nothing in life had actually changed, and it reminded me that sometimes there are just days like that, to be patient (always a challenge for me!) and see how things play out. So thank you, and I know I’m also looking ahead to real spring here (not the faux spring we have now, very sunny but windy and oh so cold).
Thanks Martha! And thank you for the timely reminder that these 'meh' feelings DO shift and we always end up feeling better if we can only be patient (HA!). Wishing you springtime weather very soon! xx
My huge apologies for the wonky formatting this week. I have had great difficulty with my software and Substack, and have not been able to get a response from them yet. Hope you can overlook the messiness!
Aww, thanks for including me in your essay! This was my very favorite of yours so far (and not just because my name is in it) - somehow your feeling of not connecting and feeling vulnerable totally connected for me. So just because the soup isn't ready for you doesn't mean it's not flavorful and hearty for someone else!
I also stumbled on stuff of my mom's after she died that brought up all sorts of conflicting emotions. Love letters from my dad, old articles she'd saved, a long message in her high school yearbook from a boyfriend I'd never even heard of. And at that point there's no one left to ask about it. It's odd to think of your parents as having lives that you didn't really know about. I stuffed all my mom's memorabilia in a desk thinking I'd go back, but I still can't get myself to open the drawer. Maybe someday when I'm ready for that collage to come together...
Oh Eileen! You captured exactly what I did with all those letters and newspaper clippings the first time I saw them. I couldn't cope with all the emotion and I'm pretty sure that is why I had 'forgotten' all about them until stumbling across them the other day. I couldn't even read the love letters from my father after seeing his signature. Maybe someday you and I will have to hide away somewhere and go through those letters together and we can rebuild a new collage. I'm glad you found something that resonated with you in that soup!
I love the uncooked soup metaphor. It’s a perfect description of the time, patience, and ingredients it takes to put together something worthwhile, meaningful, and nutritious. Maybe a little more salt ( a lot more in my case) or a pinch of another spice will bring it to life.
It must be amazing to read your mother’s letters to get to know a part of her you did not experience and ponder those with the mother you did know. I’m eager to hear what you figure out and understand after reading them.
Your writings impress and provoke me into thinking about regular things in a different light. I love reading them.
Thanks dear friend. I think this essay is still in the tepid soup state, and in my frustration with technical issues published it before it simmered a bit longer. But live, learn more and keep at it. Thanks for always being there.
I have a stack of letters that my Dad wrote to his mom and dad: his senior year in college, from the boys’ camp he ran, law school, and finally, as a young father with his firstborn (me!). It is such a wonderful glimpse into who he was, and so foreign for me, as he was always the smart, confident father (juxtaposed with the uncertain young man in the letters). They are so special, as my aunt found them in my grandmother’s effects, years after both she and my dad had passed.
Thank you for the memories! And the tinker toys!
Oh how wonderful!!! Such a great opportunity to learn about your dad when we was learning to be a grownup. Did you recognise anything of yourself in his letters? I'm still nervous to dip into my box of letters, but I will get there soon. My curiosity is starting to outweigh my nerves!
Such a gorgeous post on the fabric of life, Sabrina. Eileen's collage is beautiful, and your words so poignant. That rabbit hole you're exploring - wow, I think I'd be feeling overwhelmed - discoveries such as those can transport us into all sorts of other places and open doors to rooms we perhaps had forgotten were there.
As for six weeks on the Isle of Wight this summer, you have no idea how close I have been to saying: 'SIGN ME UP!' I'm imagining a glorious six-week self-led solo writing, hiking and squirrelling retreat... but it's sadly not on the cards! 🐿️
'Those rooms we perhaps had forgotten': nice imagery and very evocative of what's been going through my head. Well I do hope if you can't come for the full six weeks that maybe you can come another time when we are here so you and I can go for a nice long walk together. That would be even better from my perspective!
That, Sabrina, is a deal!!! 🥳 I'd love to look you up next time we're over your way!
I'll hold you to it! Yay!
😊
Yes, I have those days a lot it seems. I feel like my brain is muddled, almost too full, and I can’t really focus on any one thing and make it pop out.
I really like your description of brain being muddled and that it is too full for any one thing to pop out! That is really whet it feels like. I'm hoping we all just need some longer sunny days to jump- start our brains and get more physical outside activity!
Hi Sabrina! Thank you for another thought provoking and lovely post - and I didn’t even notice any formatting problems! I totally identify with the disjointed feelings you described so well...this past Monday I felt EXACTLY what you described and thought oh ugh, what do I do to get myself out of this fog? But then the next morning much of the fog had shifted, even though nothing in life had actually changed, and it reminded me that sometimes there are just days like that, to be patient (always a challenge for me!) and see how things play out. So thank you, and I know I’m also looking ahead to real spring here (not the faux spring we have now, very sunny but windy and oh so cold).
💚 Martha
Thanks Martha! And thank you for the timely reminder that these 'meh' feelings DO shift and we always end up feeling better if we can only be patient (HA!). Wishing you springtime weather very soon! xx