Living Memory

Where are we going?

Why is everything so expensive and heavy?

Can you see me, now that the fog has lifted?

How did you handle all of the worry?

Are you ever afraid of the wilderness?

Did I bring you enough joy?

What do you dream about?

Do you feel forgotten?

Do you wish you had done more?

Do you resent us for it?

What were you trying to teach me?

Who was Ms. Ollie?

Do you remember how much you loved that dress?

Can I hold your hand?

Is it safe?

Are you asleep yet?

Why does it hurt so much?

Would you be proud of me if you saw me today?

Did you ever have a favorite?

Do you ever miss the sound of our laughter?

How do you handle feeling so overwhelmed?

Living Memory

Memory is neither static nor absolute. Even when recalling the truth, the mind recreates some details that may or may not have existed, while blurring others. That is to say, memory is an unreliable narrator of the past. Our whole childhood is bound up in these little, true fictions.

No one teaches you how to be a mother. We only learn by example through the women we knew, our only connection to whom being the thread of memory. But, those women, as we remember them, were not exactly the same ones who raised us. They are ghosts of the past, borne into the present through a stained glass of time and naiveté. We do not know them the way we think we do.

Through this series I explore motherhood, and what motherhood means, in the context of a mutable memory.