Brianna Wolfson, whose debut novel ROSIE COLORED GLASSES released earlier this year and was a Bookreporter.com Bets On pick, owes a great deal to her mother. It was her mother who “made me endlessly curious about books and movies and games and drives and objects and people. She showed me how much of the world opens up with the simple instinct to explore.” As a writer, Brianna is constantly exploring. And although her mother passed away 18 years ago, Brianna knows she wouldn’t be where she is today without the love, support and guidance of her mother, who “infused me with the instinct and spirit to write.”
As of today, I have lived 18 years, nine months and eight days without my mother. Some days, especially on Mother’s Day, I think about the things I’ve missed out on in my life by not having a mom. By not having my mom. My free-spirited, ice-cream-on-the-breakfast table, skip-school-for-the-toy-store, paint-your-own-room-if-you-want-to, sleep-in-matching-pajamas-with-all-the-dogs-in-the-bed-with-us kind of mom.
I think about who I would have been if she was there to raise me. I think about all the books I would have read or the movies I would have watched. All the games I would have played and the drives I would have taken. All the objects I would have collected and people I would have met. I think about all the things I might have learned and all the things I might have seen.
Some days, especially on Mother’s Day, that feels like a gaping hole. Some days, especially on Mother’s Day, I am also aware that my mother, in her life and in her death, filled me up. She made me endlessly curious about books and movies and games and drives and objects and people. She showed me how much of the world opens up with the simple instinct to explore.
Writers are a kind of explorer --- nonfiction writers seek the depths of truths, fiction writers forge entirely new worlds. The worlds I choose to forge are centered on families. It’s no coincidence at all. My mother made me an explorer. And by simply having a sense of adventure and sharing it with me, she infused me with the instinct and spirit to write. And when I write about families, those spaces, those interactions, my mother comes alive in my mind. I channel the curiosity she inspired in me. I explore places and people and things I wish I got to explore with her.
When I write, I am close to my mother. Most days, when I write, especially on Mother’s Day, I remember who got me here.
