The year was 1983.

Suddenly I was a single mother of two daughters ages nine and five. My lovely home was gone, I had no education and a crappy seasonal job. No one saw it coming except my sister. Confident that it would never happen to me or my daughters I had ignored her warnings. Ignorance is bliss until it hits you squarely in the face. It took a few months for it all to sink in. Eventually shock turned to anger, which turned to determination.

I was a single parent for eight incredible years. Funds were scarce but somehow we didn't starve. Educations were successfully completed. Health challenges were overcome. Family and friends were there to support me every step of the way even when those steps were in the wrong direction. They gave me an earful when I did something stupid (often). They cheered loudly when I walked across the stage to get my college diploma. They wiped my tears and listened patiently through my times of rage (thanks, Jan). They provided meals and shelter during the most difficult times. They acted as a taxi service and worked to keep my old car running. They all played an important part of shaping my daughters' futures and helping them become the fantastic women they are today.


Looking back (always a dangerous thing to do) there are things that I wish could be done over. Mistakes were made. Hard lessons were learned. But there were also experiences that I wouldn't change for anything in the whole world. We fought like mothers and daughters. Sometimes we laughed like silly girls. Our bedrooms were messy and we jostled for morning minutes in the bathroom. We were all working students so schedules were hectic. Mac n Cheese was a kitchen staple along with frozen pizza and Hamburger Helper. We learned to tackle and overcome obstacles that got in our way. Together we shared eight years that left us fiercely independent. Fiercely. Independent. Our husbands have learned to endure that independence. Kudos to all three of them because I suspect it isn't easy.

Eight years. Three of us. It was a learning time. Often the road was extremely difficult to navigate. But oh, it was so worth it.

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(Top photo was taken the day Eris was brought home from the hospital. Bottom photo was at Knotts Berry Farm in 1985 (?))