Mom & Me, 1967 my biggest fan, my hardest critic

Life in between the clutter and the whitespace…for a writer, whitespace means an empty page, which is only good when you’re ready to begin a new story. For a designer–or a minimalist–whitespace is fresh, clean, restful. For the mother of small children, clutter is chaos and whitespace means a clean and orderly nest. For the mother with an empty nest, whitespace is the reminder that the chicks have learned to fly. To a city dweller, clutter is the sound you hear outside your window.

Life is lived in the spaces between clutter and whitespace. Maya Angelou said, “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” One of my favorite songs “This is the Stuff,” by Carolyn Arends says, “life’s made up of little things, ties that bind and apron strings…” It’s the heartbeat moments that fill our world with love and memories worth holding. Some of those are breathtaking, some are simple apron-string things, but they all create a sort of symphonic clutter in our minds.

I am a writer. It’s taken 57 years for me to be comfortable saying that out loud, much less writing it down. But I love words. I love using them to create dark marks on white paper. I take words and try to capture those chaotic symphonies of the heart and mind and share them with those I love…and even with those I haven’t yet met. I believe it’s in the sharing of these memories–these clutter-filled moments filling the whitespace of our lives–with others that then are born, nurtured, and raised into the best things we have in our lives: relationships. High praise coming from a self-proclaimed introverted hermit. 

I’m on a journey to explore life and the process of filling the whitespace with the clutter of life’s words. Join me. 


3 thoughts on “about

  1. Thank you, Mrs. Wyman, for your kind words. I welcome reading your memories of my mom. She wasn’t perfect–none of us are–but she was my mom and I treasure learning more about the life she lived separate from me. It is beautiful to know that our parents actually are real-live, honest-to-goodness people outside of their world with us!

  2. I’m not sure you’re the Holly I remember from so long ago, but it you are sister to Dell, Jr., and daughter of Dell, Sr., and Norma Nichols, then you are indeed the young lady I have not seen since you were a teenager.
    I am Ginny Wyman–grandmother of Jason and mother of Robin. I remember you as a lovely blonde young lady. I have somewhat kept up with you through the years via Jay, and I did know of some of your medical issues.
    I wish you continued improvement, and I have prayed for you through the years as I did your father when he was so ill, and now for your mom as she, too, battles illness, but seems to live each day with joy and peace. This bit I have learned from Jay. .
    I accidentally came across your name on Amazon.com and decided to investigate further. I found this Website.
    As I have said, I’m not sure if I have the right person who I remember from so long ago.

    1. Yes, ma’am, I am the same Holly you remember and thank you so very much for the prayers for my family and me. It has been the prayers of the faithful many that has helped me through my journey and kept my mother strong for all these years of lung cancer.

      Jason is still my precious “boy”–the reason I prayed for all my children to be boys (a prayer God blessedly answered “yes”)–I try to keep up with him on FB, but it’s not always easy to keep tabs on him.

      Thank you for taking the time to check out my little blog and thanks again for the prayers!

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