On March 2nd, I continued my birthday tradition of recording bits of knowledge I’ve collected during the year. Now, on March 25th, a few things in the world have changed. The lessons I previously wrote seemed so far away from what I’m learning and experiencing now.
I plopped on the couch, a looming stack of cut-up magazines on the coffee table in front of me. Time to find out what inspires me.
Sitting down with my journal and deeply thinking about it, I can trace back through a handful of versions of myself. The free spirit Scotland traveler constantly in a green knit hat and scuffed leather boots. The stressed teacher living in the tiny Portland apartment with a guinea pig. The new wife in Germany who poured energy into friendships, reading, art. Looking back through the layers of my life, I realize that I reinvented myself every year, with new jobs, passion-projects, food tastes. A small army of Emmas stand behind me, varying styles all lined up.
As time passes and carries us higher into adulthood, the specifics of childhood grow fuzzy. What remains is the feeling of being in our brown home with red doors, with my mother, father, and sister. I remember it as if I am looking into a snow globe, a static moment of my life halted in time, only the warm, vague feeling lasting.
The year 2000 brought Y2K panic, the Sydney summer Olympics, and so on. But, most importantly to me, the year 2000 caused us to create the family time capsule, to be opened in the year 2020.
In the midst of making a big change, it’s hard to remember to stop and think about your emotions or the places and people you’re leaving behind. Use these writing prompts to reflect and appreciate your life changes.
Fifteen months living on a small army base in Vilseck, Germany, coming to a close. Unlike my usual habit of talking (or writing) with no end in sight, I don’t quite have the words today. So, this Wednesday, instead of posting a series of writing prompts, or a wordy life reflection with a heavy dose of nostalgia, I’m doing something different. Something for me.
Christmas morning rolls around. A big box, wrapped in gold paper and an oversized bow sits under the tree, an eager puppy waiting inside. This puppy is a blank slate, ready to be trained, immediately loving everyone around him, and would rarely have an accident in the house. He would understand the expectations without being trained over and over again. He would adjust into our family routine without a hiccup. If you’ve ever had a dog, you know what you just read isn’t reality, even a little bit.
Throughout life, each person we come across can be a teacher. Not necessarily a school teacher, but a teacher brought to us to impart a meaningful lesson. List people you would consider your personal teachers and jot what lessons you’ve learned from them along the way.
In the past, I’ve written about leaving, about saying goodbye to what you once knew, about the fear of forgetting. Now we’re thrown in the boiling stew once again, our essence of life here about to be lifted and dropped in a new country, a new home.