Mrs. Hill told me I should write. That was 27 years ago.
Words have a way of sitting in the vault until a time when we need to access them, a time when they become more relevant. Words matter.
“…the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire…” – James 3: 5,6
The words that a high school teacher spoke 27 years ago now have some substance, a new form in my new place in life. My journey as a mom is teaching me how much words matter, how much children absorb, how much I have absorbed in a lifetime of words.
I want to honor my words; choose them carefully; write words that make a difference, if only to me. Writing is a means of sifting, filtering, formulating, assigning meaning to otherwise jumbled thoughts. Organizing the mind brings peace. I am learning a lot about peace these days and it is bringing new depths of joy to mothering and family life.
So begins the journey of assigning words to my inner sanctum.
“The limits of my language means the limits of my world.” ― Ludwig Wittgenstein
apeaceofmom 
Very well stated. Can’t wait for the next entry. Mom to Mom
Well done; I will avoid addressing you as …..
Dad
beautifully crafted, Pascale. And I love the play on words. Looking forward to reading more. For me, it has taken “grandmothering” to fully reflect upon appreciate the joys and trials of my mother.
Your second post prompts me to reflect upon my own life and realize how “maturity” has helped me rid myself of several tendencies I have to achieve perfection!
Enjoying the pleasures offered by my two wonderful grandchildren has also helped me realize how important it is to embrace the small joys, the hugs and kisses and the never ending expressions of innocence. They have taught me to forget my need for a neat and tidy house, for a time at least!
Thus forget being perfect.