For you Mom.

I’m starting a blog. And I want to point out right of the bat that I don’t claim to be a literary genius. I also openly admit that I am sub-par in spelling. But I don’t write for others to read, I write because there is something in me that needs to, that has something to say. Regardless of such, I can guarantee you I’m at least an ounce clever, and I will always be real. If this intrigues you, read on.

My name is Jennie Kathleen Foley.

I key into a lot of things that others don’t.

And I tune out of what most people do.

I like to think of this as a sort of quirk, part of who I am. But sometimes, it makes social situations awkward, hurts feelings, and utterly confuses me.

Other times, it makes me hike mountains, hop a plane across the world, take a yoga class, make a kid smile, write a poem, paint anything around me, run 14 miles, fall madly in love, and buy a ridiculous pair of shoes from goodwill, knowing that I may actually be the only person in the state who finds them fashionable.

These are the things that make me who I am, and that help me to succeed and be happy in my life. By being myself, by believing in anything I want, and by knowing I am loved no matter who I am, I can thrive, not just by accomplishing goals, but by being happy moment to moment.

I inherited this all from my mother.

The other thing I inherited from my mother was writing, (and perhaps her addiction to shoes). I think I was around age seven when I first saw my mother’s journal in her dresser drawer. I think I was stealing socks, socks where always disappearing in our house. And there it was... it seemed like it was glowing. I felt like for a moment I was in a Disney movie, finding some magical key to everything about a person. But I didn’t know whether or not I should open it, it felt like opening someone’s entire soul.

To be honest, I can’t remember much past that. I hope I didn’t open it, but I may never know. My mother came in and snatched it from my hands, upset that I had discovered something she kept hidden.

From then on, I kept journals. At all times, and regardless of how much I wrote, I never went without one, just in case I needed to say something and there was no one to listen. It’s given me an upper hand in self-discovery, offering me an outlet to figure myself out.

So this blog is for you mom. And it’s not just for you to read, it’s for me to write.

Every Sunday my mother and I talk on the phone. Sometimes, it ends up being a Monday or a Tuesday, due to our overly busy lives, but it always happens. It’s always a long, heartfelt conversation. I look forward to it every week, since I live across the country in Minnesota. She helps me feel like I’m close to home.  I appreciate these conversations more than she knows. Friends come and go, but family is forever, so they mine as well also play the role of a friend.  Ever since I passed that awkward post-pubescent stage of female-role- model rebellion…my mother has been my best friend.

Each time we have one of these conversations, my mother asks me to read her blog. I’m often busy throughout the week, so I don’t always have time. I also have some authenticity issues with writing online, but I’m getting over it. SO this blog just isn’t for my mother to read, it’s so I can understand where she is coming from, and to remind me to read hers.

Here’s to staying connected with family, no matter the distance between.