My mum kept telling me she wanted to tell the whole world how proud she is of me.
“Sure Mum, you can do that. Tell everyone you meet if you want.”
“No, on the internet.”
“So how do I go about that?”
“Uhmm… I guess you could do a guest blog post on my blog.” I pause. “You’re not planning on embarrassing me, are you?”
“Of course not.”
I grin. “Is that only because I don’t embarrass easily?”
It’s good to know my mum is proud of me. She’s been a strong role model. And by that I don’t mean we’ve had the perfect mother daughter relationship or we’ve never argued. We haven’t always seen eye to eye on things, but I’ve always known she’s been there in my corner.
As I was growing up, when anything needed doing, whether it was a meal cooked, house maintenance or the car fixed, Mum did it. I learned that women can do anything they choose to do. That nothing is impossible and perseverance pays off in the end. I learned about family loyalty, getting in and getting the job done and being creative. But most of all, I learned about love. That fierce, protective love that a parent can feel for their child. I knew that I could go out and explore the world, take a few risks and discover the unknown because my mum had my back.
And she’s still there for me.
Mum editing my manuscript while on holidays.
Leichhardt River, Queensland.
The Birth Of a Writer
My first born. How I cried tears of joy as I held her in my arms. The love and protection that I felt for this tiny 7lb bundle, filled me with awe.
Avril was always a quiet achiever. Crawling at an early age, walking earlier than most babies. I would sit and sing, read or tell stories to her but once she learned to read and write, I was no longer required to do this.
She would sit by herself and read, read, read. The joy she showed when she was given a book, was all the thanks needed. Avril took over the story telling to her siblings and never went anywhere without a book. There was many an early morning, 1am, 2am, 3am, that she was told to turn off the bedroom light. She shared the room with her younger sister and I was afraid I would have two tired children to deal with the next day. Avril solved this problem by saving her pocket money and buying a torch. I would still find her at all hours of the night, under the sheets with pen and paper, using her torch to write down her stories.
My daughter was headstrong and never gave up her love of reading and writing. Her collection of books and novels would make a second-hand bookstore envious. It is often discussed to this day, how I made her pass on books to her cousins, when she didn’t want to part with them. As a mother, I wondered how many books were needed, especially when they had been read about a million times.
Yes, we had a few problems. When Avril was asked to do a chore, and asked, and asked, she would finally do it with a book in one hand and the chore being dealt with by the other. Her siblings would ask her to play a game but reading came first. Most times she didn’t hear you, as once she started to read, she was absorbed in the story.
I am proud to say, Avril stayed true to her dream of becoming an author. It may have taken her forty years of her life to achieve this, with many hurdles along the way, but she never gave up her dream.
The day she asked me to edit her books, my ‘Yes’ was spontaneous, I felt like I had won the lottery. Being an editor also gave me the opportunity to read her books before they go public. I am only too happy to help with this. When Avril posted her first books on Amazon as ebooks, my heart felt too big for my body.
My first born had achieved her dream. She was now an author. Not only that but she is a caring daughter, wonderful mother and always there if the family needs her – but only after she has finished the chapter she is reading!
2 thoughts on “Guest Post:The Birth Of A Writer”
Wow, this is a most moving post. If I had a child like Avril, I hope I’d be as supportive and understanding. Awesome, Mum!
I’m very lucky to have the family I do, especially my mum. None of us are perfect, thankfully, but we’re there for each other when it matters. I was a foster parent for several years and my heart used to break to see what some children had to endure and how some families never had the opportunity to learn how to care for and be there for each other.
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