Pondering the Legacy

I'm having trouble deciding where this post belongs: here, or in "Bogus Journeys". I'll err on the side of "Adventure". This isn't dark or bleak, not for me anyway. So here goes...

Some "background":
I was reading an article in "Real Simple" magazine (See, I'm not "real bitter" about not winning their essay contest...I didn't cancel my subscription. I'm being the bigger person and waiting to indulge in scathing criticism until, AFTER I actually read the winning submission. - bitch professional writer, probably has 'education', too!-), on different women and how they are artistically preserving their families' heritage (other than scrap booking). One's a photographer, one's a writer, they even have a quilter represented.

Tall One's viewing a DVD course on "The Making of the New Testament Canon". An acquaintance expressed concern over an offspring's religiosity.

These circumstances lead me to the following ponderings:

The ladies in "Real Simple" are preserving their pasts, partly to leave a mark on the future. Photographs are compiled into self-published coffee table books. Writers are compiling letters, diaries and written vignettes into self-published memoirs. Artists are creating memory boxes and bed covers to be cherished and handed down.

Now, I can and will do the same sorts of things. I have pictures and mementos that I have every intention of creatively organizing, arranging and displaying. I have some concrete plans, that just need a little motivation to bring them to fruition. I have no doubt that my family and friends will "ooh" and "aah" their appreciation and even save these "time capsules" till they crumble into dust. I'm willing Daughter my cross-stitched pictures - ALL of them - just because she hates them. I think that will be funny. Hopefully, she'll "get" it!

But, these will not be my real legacy. I know what that will be.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I prayed. I prayed that god would give me people. I was serious about this prayer. While I lack for nothing in the comfort department (except for turning the heat to ridiculously low temperatures), we are not experiencing unlimited wealth. And, I'm really good with that. "More stuff, more responsibility." I would not enjoy winning the lottery, I do not daydream about "things". I have, however, accumulated a large variety of people. I love my people. They are diverse and beautiful. I've gotten them from exotic locals, and from the internet. Some are literally, flesh of my flesh, and some are scavenged from the relationships of others. Some are very needy, some are incredibly giving. Some are so difficult that I've had to distance myself, others are so comforting that I take their presence for granted.

So, this is what I've been mulling, and these are my conclusions. I will not depend upon my ability to rearrange and bestow artifacts in the hopes that they will prolong my memory or inspire reminiscences in the hearts and minds of those I leave behind. I will affect to rearrange and change their minds and hearts. I will leave behind pieces of me, for my loved ones to ponder. They may not even recognize my influence, but they will be sharing a part of my essence.

I can't anticipate what will be important or thought provoking for another human being. The paintings my mother did as a young woman are interesting, but hold no emotion for me. Even the ones she did later in life don't affect me in any meaningful way, but observing her organizational skills impresses the bejeeses out of me. It's something I aspire to. After she's gone, I anticipate gratefully singing her praises for leaving me neat drawers and filed important papers. Every time I straighten up my plastic container drawer, I think of my mother, fondly. Her needle work, paintings and even the old photographs are relegated to the closet, I may look through them a few more times in this life, but I clean something every single day, and that's the part of my mother that I cherish. My father has been dead for thirty five years, I think of him every time I do a push-up, every time I answer my mother with patience, whenever I see my daughter ice skate.

That's what I'm leaving my people. A part of me. A kindness remembered and passed on. A moment of comfort. A good laugh. An assumed characteristic. A turn of a phrase. An experience. A life lived with no regrets.