Sort Of Young and Restless


Earlier this year I became older than what my mother lived. That was a hard state of emotions to manage.  Every breath I took I became all too aware on how I understood my mom more than I actually knew her. So many times, of the past almost 28 years since she died, I have been in a state of sorrow. I ache to know or ask her a million questions.


I began writing to carve my stories for my daughters in case I met the same fate as my mom. I penned tales of our older cat, Harley, so my oldest would remember him and my youngest would get to know him. I then began to write to fill a void of missing my mother. The blogging community welcomed me and I found many motherless moms like me. Some only knew their moms through pictures.

I started three years ago without knowing a thing about blogging. It was a name pulled out of thin air.  For years I would sign notes Just, D. It just stuck. I am not a celebrity. I am just me. A daughter, a sister, a wife and a mother trying to figure out what to do.  And I still don’t.

I am at a crossroads, restless and still sort of young. I do not know if a new writing chapter is ready to emerge. Or if a name change is imminent. All I know is I love to write. I bare what I can to respect my children and my marriage. I write to figure out who am I now that I am older than my mother. In October I turn 39. She did not make it to that birthday. With all the tests and pro-activeness my future looks promising.

Please bear with me. I thank you for reading my blog and guest blogs. I adore it when you leave a comment or personal message. You validate that the blogging community is a kind and supportive one. I hope we can meet again soon.

Ciao for now,



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