There are all kinds of wonderful pages, telling me how I ought to title my posts, and what I ought to write about to gain followers and readers. While I deeply appreciate everyone who takes the time to read my words here, I have to let you know, I'm not that kind of blogger. My blog isn't the product. I am learning to see myself as a business person, and I know that it's important to do things that drive sales and engage customers. It's a good thing to do.
But I can't bring myself to make that the focus here.
What I really want to tell you today, is that 365 days ago, my phone rang and my world changed. My wonderful mother, loved by so many, had slipped away in the night. She'd replied to a facebook message I'd written the night before. By morning, she was gone. She was sixty-six.
My mother taught me so many things that have kept reverberating over the past year. Simple things -- wear a hat when it's cold; wear a slip when your skirt is a little too "hey baby!"; gargle with salt water for a sore throat; Santa likes carrot cookies -- and more complex things. My mother taught me that when there is a long road in front of you, a story will keep you awake and shorten the hours.
I wish so much that she'd gotten to see her grandson play baseball. That she was here to see the birds and flowers this spring. I wish she still had this necklace tucked away in her jewelry box, the one I had admired for years, the one she said I could have when she died. I wear it, and think of her.
My mother told me all kinds of stories. She told me the entire plot of Anne McCaffrey's The White Dragon on a car trip to visit her parents. She told me about the time her hand got caught in the car door, and her uncle didn't notice and started driving away. Mom told me the story of how happy she was to wake Christmas morning as a child, and find her favorite cousin sleeping next to her, having arrived late in the night. Story, after story, connecting me to my family, my heritage of stories.
I try to tell the stories to my son. The stories want to live, and to be told, so the people in them can live on.
I learned from those stories. I learned to be brave, and kind, and connected. I learned to believe in magic and to trust in the goodness of people. I miss my mother terribly and painfully, but in the stories she told me, she is always near.
do you want to learn more about telling stories to children? want to make your homeschool time richer and more fruitful through wonder and delight? wish you could create more magic for the children in your care as a sitter, teacher, or grandparent? I'm offering a special seven-day ecourse to those on my mailing list. sign up, and get the link to join the course. Thank you!
Sara Renee Logan has been telling stories to everyone who would listen since she was seven. She organized storytimes for her college roommates, and spent a year at Oxford studying folklore and folktales. Many years as a Waldorf teacher allowed her to tell stories about everything from Baba Yaga's hut on chicken legs to the water cycle to the life of Joan of Arc. Sara shares her life with her partner, Melanie, their son, and an unreasonable family of pets. She continues to share her love of storytelling and stories with audiences of all ages, specializing in bringing the wild beauty of folktales to young and old. Sara writes about parenting, storytelling, and about living a life with stories.