Who Am I? I Was Her All Along

I began writing this blog to leave behind family stories for my children and grandchildren.

My writing unfolded chronologically, weaving my stories together with memories of my family and the stories they told me.

In considering the header for the blog, I wanted one that honored those stories and my voice.

I had a vision for a roll-top desk, but that alone wasn’t quite right. Something was missing.

Then I came across a nature scene.

It made me stop and take a quick intake of breath.

And in that moment, something shifted.

This is who I am.

The little girl who grew up on a farm.

The little girl who always had a passion for words from a tender age.

The little girl who discovered a desire to write in grade school, but didn’t know how to get started.

Over the years, I’ve tried to answer that question—who am I?—more than once. The answers were usually measured by roles.

But none of those, standing alone, ever told the whole story.

They were all true—but they were not the beginning.

The beginning was the farm.

Now I understand why.

It isn’t the place I’m holding onto.

It’s her.

That little girl, living on a farm with her mom and dad and her brother.

She isn’t just part of my story.

She is me.

Grown now.

Shaped by years of living—by love, marriage, children, profound loss, and learning to live again.

And now, by writing.

But still her.

Her story—my story—isn’t over.

There are many tales left to tell.

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