So I finally move mum’s old-fashioned trunk into storage, and use it to store her photo albums. There are a lot of them (twenty plus?). Amongst them, I find a binder- mum’s training course in Therapeutic Touch. (She was qualified- and talented. I was a frequent recipient.). The paperwork includes a “time line” of her life- a brief biography. This was completed in her sixties in the late 1990’s. Dad was still alive. (He died in 2000; Mum, in 2013.)
The writing is three pages long. Three pages. If you expressed your life in three pages, what would you say, and what would you leave out?
Long ago, Mum had a boyfriend, whom she expected to marry, who eloped with someone else. (“The sting of betrayal lasted a long time,” she wrote.) I think I recall hearing about this in passing, but it gets mentioned here in the three pages. It was more than important. It was Three Pages important.
Mum sums up our childhood in 1960’s Montreal: “Church choir, teaching Sunday school, shovelling snow and my small children is how I remember it.” An entire era, summed up thusly. And it ends touchingly, with her feeling her greatest support, in the 1990’s, from my brother, whose own forays into Eastern philosophy and spirituality link with her own search for spiritual fulfillment. Touching, because the two of them were like oil and water in his youth. All in all, it’s a rare document.
If your life were three pages, what would you say, and what would you leave out?