Notes From a Daughter
By Trudi Trueit - May 4, 2010
More Posts by Trudi Trueit
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March 18, 2013
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November 12, 2012
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September 5, 2012
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January 23, 2012
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November 26, 2011
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September 6, 2011
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June 16, 2011
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April 19, 2011
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March 18, 2011
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December 29, 2010
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September 21, 2010
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July 28, 2010
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June 22, 2010
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April 7, 2010
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March 10, 2010
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February 9, 2010
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January 19, 2010
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December 10, 2009
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October 27, 2009
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August 24, 2009
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June 8, 2009
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January 12, 2009
You know how writers are supposed to tap into their inner angst for inspiration and authenticity? I have my share of inner angst, believe me. But none of it, and I mean, none of it, comes from my mother. There is a photograph I have of the two of us my father took—it is my favorite. In it, I am not yet two years old and sporting an eye patch over my right eye to strengthen my left eye following surgery. My mother, young and lovely, is holding me. She is beaming as if her pirate-eyed daughter is the most glorious creature on Earth. And I am looking at her as if she is the Sun in my world. She was. She still is. My mom has been by my side for every painful and joyful event in my life—teaching me to ride a bike (balancing me from the back of my sparkly blue banana seat), drying my tears when no one asked me to the junior high dance, kissing my cheek before I married the man of my dreams, proudly holding my first published novel in her arthritic hands. She continues to amaze me as she battles a debilitating disease with more grace, heart, and determination than I could ever summon in her situation. But that is my mom. All inspiration, no angst. When I look at our photograph now, and I look at it almost every day, I see two souls setting off on a journey. Two souls that didn't know where they were going or how they would get there; only that they were destined to be the best of friends. And I was - I am - lucky enough to be one of them.
