I was going through a bunch of old papers last night, mostly from the late 80’s. Papers I had written in school, notes passed from my first boyfriend (we “went out” for about two weeks, although we didn’t actually go anywhere together), ticket stubs from the Tiffany concert ($4 a pop) and a few other things I thought were important at the time.
I called my mom to tell her what I had found. She suggested hanging onto some of those things because Jackson would be curious to see them when he gets older. Her analogy was that if I ran across something she had written when she was 31, I’d be curious to know what was going on in her mind and in her life when she was my age.
So I thought about what was going on in my life when she was my age. I know that sounds confusing, but stay with me. I was the same age when I had Jackson that she was when she had me. So it’s kind of easy to think, ok, when my mom was 31 and I was 7, what was going on in our lives (at least what was going on that I was aware of)?
Well, she started Nursing School when I was 7. So she was making a life-changing move when she was 31 and I just made a life-changing move at the age of 31. Freaky, huh?