End of Motherhood

“You write Evergreens, “ Joyce said approvingly.

“What?” I was confused. “Evergreens?” We’d been talking of our writing, a frequent topic of conversation between friends. I was lamenting that some of my books were growing gray moss.

“When you write from the heart, write from your own experience, if it’s good work, that writing never goes out-of-style. Evergreen writing is like an evergreen tree that never loses its wisdom.”

I sat a little straighter. A recent memory stirred. “It may help you,” I’d said as I handed The End of Motherhood to a fellow member of a spiritual group. She had precisely the problem I had dealt with in writing the book: feeling hurt and unappreciated when active motherhood was over. My experience later took on completeness for my fellow member thanked me, said she’d bought the book and had recommended it to a friend.

“And talk about synchronicity,” I told Joyce after I’d relayed my recent experience with The End of Motherhood, “I am just digesting a timeless bit from a 1995, Richard Bode, First You Have to Row a Little Boat:”

I had been given a precious gift called freedom, and for a while I mistook it for the purpose of my life. I thought that because I was free to sail wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted, without seeking permission from someone else, that I possessed all I would ever need. What I discovered was that if I wanted to be free, truly free, I had to choose. There were many points on the compass rose. I had to locate the few that were meant for me.

Passing on hard-earned wisdom – evergreens – feels really good both coming and going. A win-win for everyone.

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