Why I blog ?

I’ve searched other blogs for reasons why one blogs.
I have my own reasons, but wondered if others felt the same.
Sites tell me that we blog for attention, for acceptance.
For the hits. A race to be popular.

My initial reason for this blog was to journal my thoughts.
Obviously I have many.
A would be poet and novelist in my dreams,
I longed to write it all down.
If only for me. And I did, since childhood I have
expressed myself through the written word.
Day to day opinions, frustrations, observations, longings.
My joy, sorrow, grief and happiness.

A record of me. Who I am, flaws and all.
Why now publicly ?
Because I can.
Friends far away can be reached through this site.
Often they email me with updates of their own.
Yes, strangers read here.
Good. I am fine with that.
I am pleased when I receive emails or comments
that tell me I have reached them in some small way.

We are a non traditional family, hoping for growth
in the world through education by example.
The realization that we are not one bit different
in the way we live our lives.
Our only difference, that we are simply two
women very much in love with each other.

Recently, I realized that as this blog grows
I find I am writing things that my children, and one
day possibly my grandchildren, will have access to.
I would give anything to have been able to read my
mothers thoughts. Her joy and pain.
What a gift it would be to read my fathers words.

My children sometimes reply here.
I have no secrets from them.
Some may question the wisdom of that.
I never have. I am human.
I make mistakes at times and also teach
them by example. They learn from me, and I from them.

My mother was a closed woman.
She died with many secrets.
Hurt feelings, my anger, all surfaced with her passing.
She took so much with her that should have been said.
Every opportunity to speak, lost with the mundane day to day
conversations we shared.

Distanced helped with the lack of communication.
But if I am being honest, and I want to be.
She never welcomed honest, real conversation.
Maybe she was afraid of where it would lead.
She may have been compelled to be honest in return.
I believe she had a lot to hide that I would have
understood, if only given the chance.

I choose not be a dark mystery.
To my children, my friends, to anyone.
I am not afraid of being human.
I readily admit to being flawed.