Writing is something I have wanted to do for many years.  So now I am taking a little time to write and I have a place for others to see my work, and I can’t seem to decide what to write about.  I have kept a short list the last few days of topics I want to write about. The list includes a product review, commentary on gang crime in Walmart, and loneliness.  I keep finding other things to do instead of write, as if writing is something I don’t want to do, but I do. Maybe I’m afraid of it (writing) somehow? Maybe putting my thoughts out there for other people to read is putting me out there, or not. I really think people will like my writings. I have lived through some unusual experiences and some very common ones. That should make my writings doubly appealing because that is how most people’s lives are, some unusual events and experiences and some common ones.

I have decided, though, my writings will be dedicated to my Mom.  My Facebook page and web blog are named with her in mind. My Mother liked to write. She kept daily journals that recorded some of the most mundane moments of life, grocery lists, the weather. Some entries documented the exciting events in live, the sad, and the tragic. She kept records on family history, recipes, even her favorite color. I wish I had those journals today.  She wanted to be a writer. I believe she wanted to be seen and heard, acknowledged for her existence. Don’t we all want that, to feel that our life matters?  Her desire to write in a public forum, however, would not be granted, until now. My writings will not be exactly how hers would have been but they will be because of her. She was beautiful, smart, and strong beyond my comprehension. Her life was not easy. She endured hardship that I can’t begin to imagine, grief, and mental illness. Her family didn’t understand the emotions that drove her to do some of the odd or unpleasant things she did. Yet, she was able to laugh and appreciate the beauty in life. She read her Bible almost every day, she loved Jesus, and she loved new life. She loved the little birds and rabbits that seemed to be everywhere in the yard at times, like they knew it was a safe place to be. Most of all she loved babies. She loved her babies and she was a wonderful nurturer, I know because I am a good nurturer. I got that from her. She loved other babies too, her grandchildren especially. She worried about them and prayed for them and never wanting anything from them except for them to come see her and spend some time with her. She wanted her children and grandchildren to know her, to really know what was in her heart. Sadly, I don’t think we did, we were all too busy.

So, in honor of my Mom, I write. I hope I can do justice to her life, to give her the acknowledgement she was looking for and for being my Mom, for teaching me so many things, some I didn’t know until l had children and grandchildren. What they say is true; you never stop being a parent. You continue to teach long after you are gone from this world. She wasn’t a perfect mother but she was a good mother.

She would love the name I have chosen for my Facebook page and web blog, Steele Street Station, and she would love the color I am using as the signature color for the pages, blue.

Well, my first real article is done. I am on my way. Write on.