The Momoir Project

I am sitting in my basement surrounded by the dust of forgotten things and brown cardboard boxes crinkled with time. The desk is overflowing with papers: half-hearted mementos, receipts and so-called important documents piled hazardously high. The cold concrete of the unfinished floor floats up through my barefeet. The washing machine whirrs loudly. It is a place barren of inspiration. Facing my pristine laptop, I sign on to an Internet conversation. From inside the trinkets of my small white box I hear voices, like sounds in a tin can, coming from all parts Canada and the US. We are all members of a class called “Momoirs” and this is our first meeting.

Piercing the conversation comes my son’s full-bodied cry, floating like a hurricane down the stairs. I cringe, wondering how much longer I can sit in the stillness and peace of this adult conversation. I hear the pound of my husband’s footsteps across the tile and up the stairs and when the cries do not cease, I know I am needed.

The adult conversation continues, but I blithely interrupt, “Sorry, guys, I have to go. I’m breastfeeding and my son needs me.” They get it. They understand. I end up breastfeeding my son through the remainder of the class, balancing his tiny body on my lap while I try to listen intently, not to the loudness of his suckle, but to the quiet of a female voice somewhere in the distance.

I signed up for the writing class because I love to write. But I was terrified at the prospect of sharing with others. Would others judge me on my sentence formation? The grammatically incorrect way I form my prose? Would I really have stories to tell? But my fears evaporated with each session. Not only did I find that I did have stories, but that I had tapped into a wonderfully supportive and inspirational community. I am delighted to be playing a part in continuing that community here. I hope you will join me, and often.

It takes courage to share your writing with others. We don’t want your stories, your passions, to crumble into the dust of our everyday. So let’s motivate each other to keep writing, to keep laughing and to keep loving.

This week’s writing start: Starting Over