Memoir
/ˈmemˌwär/ noun. a record of events written by a person having intimate knowledge of them and based on personal observation. Usually memoirs. an account of one's personal life and experiences; autobiography. the published record of the proceedings of a group or organization, as of a learned society.
Can you believe we have less than ten Memoir Monday prompts left? We’ve been at this for close to a year now. I sometimes think about how different my life might be if I was born to a different set of parents. I’m so thankful to have been born at the exact time and place I was. My Mom is, without a doubt, one of the best people I know and through her example she’s helped to guide my brother and I throughout our lives. She’s undoubtedly one of my best friends and most trusted confidants.
Memoir Monday has grown so much that I won’t be able to comment on everyone’s posts anymore (and get my own work done) but I’ll still be supporting your posts with reblogs, votes, and shares on my other social media accounts (X, Facebook, etc.).
For all of those who’ve regularly participated in Memoir Monday - keep going, you’re making great progress in chronicling your very own life story for future generations to enjoy.
For those who missed the inaugural post explaining what the Memoir Monday initiative is all about you can find it here.
Now for next week’s Memoir Monday prompt:
What is one of your favorite memories of your mother?
My answer:
Where do I begin? It’s hard to pick just one “favorite” memory of my mom because she’s been such a constant source of love, support, and friendship throughout my life. She’s not just my mom—she’s been one of my best friends, always kind, nonjudgmental, and unwavering in her encouragement.
During my childhood, my mom was a stay-at-home parent, which gave us invaluable time together in those formative years. My preschool days were filled with reading, playing, and endless conversations with her, and I truly believe those moments gave me a solid head start in life. She’s patient, selfless, smart, and the best listener I know.
Mom sent me this text message on the night before my fifty-second birthday. It was so touching to me that I've kept it in my phone ever since. I'm including it here in my memoir so it doesn't get lost to time. This message does a good job of illustrating what kind of person my Mom is:
"I hope you sleep well Eric! At this time 52 years ago I was in the hospital walking. Trying to get my labor to start. Dad and I walked for a long time. Finally they told me to lay down and try and rest. And I’m just a few short hours you made your appearance! All of the nurses were amazed at how much hair you had. It was wonderful to finally get to see and hold you! You are such an amazing human being! I am so proud of you. Dad was too! You are a wonderful son!! Except the time you hid behind the door in the living room and scared me so bad because I couldn’t find you! Sweet dreams Eric! I love you!!"
I wish we had more photos together from my childhood but in looking back I realized that often she was often the one behind the camera taking the pictures.
If I was forced to choose one favorite memory, it would be the summer of 1990 when we planted a garden together in the backyard of my childhood home at 586 Elizabeth Ave in Columbus. The garden, about 10’ x 20’, was a labor of love. Together, we tilled the soil and planted broccoli, carrots, zucchini, cauliflower, corn, and tomatoes—harvesting far more than we could ever eat. Working in that garden taught us both so much, and it marked a turning point for me. That summer, I began to mature and started to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.
Even after I moved away from Ohio in 1995, my mom and I have remained incredibly close. Over the past ten years, as my writing career flourished, it’s been one of my greatest joys to give back to her in small ways and spoil her a little. When it comes to parents, I realize I hit the jackpot.
One of the greatest gifts my mom and dad gave my brother and me was the freedom to explore our dreams. They never imposed their own aspirations or beliefs on us, and that autonomy has profoundly shaped who we are today. I carry that gift with me always, as a reminder of the love and trust they placed in us.
Throughout my life my Mom has been my teacher, therapist, and a disciplinarian when she’s had to be. I owe a large part of not only my success but many of my joys in life to my Mom. The greatest lesson she’s imparted in me is to try my best to always view life from the lens of kindness, joy, gratitude, and optimism.
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