Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

I had to write this to you due to the nature of these little full circle moments. It was ten years ago this weekend that I began this little letter-writing correspondence. And it was just a couple weeks and ten years ago that I first went to see the play that has also marked such a pivotal moment in my life — and since I purchased a pair of leggings from which I likely will never part.

Ten years ago you helped arrange for our choir to see Wicked on my birthday. A little gift for your musically-inclined, theatre-enthusiast daughter. And that night I purchased my playbill leggings — one thing I never showed you that night despite telling you all my (then) eighteen-year-old analyses of the show. Told you what to expect and look for when you were to go with Mary Faith just a month later in NYC. Then, due to the unforeseen circumstances, I ended up being the one to go with her in the Big Apple. Where, of course, I wore the leggings.

Fast forward nine years later — the weekend I was moving away from my dream city since middle school — Dad and Rhonda went with me to the show there on Broadway once more. And, again I wore the leggings.

This weekend, a friend invited me at the last minute to see the show in Dallas. And I knew just what I’d be wearing — you guessed it. Non-negotiable.

It’s such a small thing, but such a reminder of how life continues on. In some ways, at certain times, I still feel like that barely eighteen-year-old. Then I realize: I’ve reached my “golden birthday” year of twenty-eight. A decade older. And I wonder if I’ve accomplished as much as I hoped I would.

Yes, on some things: getting an English degree, living in NYC, making countless new friends and new memories, traveling all over the states and even to Europe. No, on others: a publishing job (though I tried and just don’t think it’s for me), marriage, motherhood, writing my own novel (though some possibilities still in the works), perhaps even a masters and/or starting a doctorate. (Wow, this latter list feels very vulnerable to share, Mom.)

Although, perhaps my true accomplishments are not of the material, measurable kind. Actually, I hope so. I hope the Lord can look at my heart and say that I’ve grown just as He intended and hoped for me. And that every person I’ve met and conversation had along the way just proved the fruit of His work in me.

I hope I can look back at that very first letter to you on Mother’s Day 2016 and say, “Wow, look at how far the Lord has brought me.” Because I know He has. So many letters that testify of that truth.

However, to be completely honest, Mom, I didn’t really think of you much yesterday. I chose to avoid it. Perhaps still am a little. Because I didn’t want to hurt. (Ironically, I can write these letters without much emotional thought toward the mother I to whom I claim directing them.)

Instead, I focused on celebrating the other moms in my life. And it did help having to work a chunk of the afternoon. Further distraction.

But, now, I’m home-free from this season of milestones. Until your birthday in September. And then the holidays. Because those are still a bit of a mixed bag.

Anyway, I digress, again. Some extraneous reflections of what ten years actually means in the span of life.

Dare I look to the future for a moment? Where I’ll be in ten years? If you were actually here, we’d probably have had this conversation a few times over the years.

I’ll be thirty-eight. Just shy of forty years. And I think there are plenty of things on my not-accomplished list above that I could include here. But, realistically, I’d like to:

• Go to Europe again at least once — Hope and I have plans to do so in the next couple of years;
• Actually finish a book? Whether or not it gets published is a whole other goal dependent on the quality of my writing… but at least say I did it;
• Live two years in this camper I’m renovating — the two years is to determine whether I want to renovate a newer model (possibly even smaller and more portable) to last longer or to transition back into apartment living, either way using that time to save financially;
• Determine whether my current role at Starbucks is sufficient or to take the next step toward management and achieve that;
• Get a masters in something — whether creative writing, philosophy, or some area of theology — and maybe even start towards a doctorate?
• Develop a well-rounded routine of traveling to see family and friends across the states.

I believe these are all achievable within ten years’ time. Even so, perhaps you can sense some of the ambiguity and looseness of these accomplishments. For better or for worse, I don’t like to rigidly hold too many goals for the future.

And maybe that’s something I should readdress in the future… or not.

To ten years past and ten years more! (Or “to eternity” from your perspective.)

Your daughter,
Hannah