Forget-Me-Nots

So, I started thinking about my own mortality while walking into the hospital for a check-up. As I rode the elevator to the 5th floor where my doctor's office is located, I was not worried about my health, per say, but about the mortality of the things that I do.

Being a parent has caused me to be even more aware of the things in my life that I would like to leave behind for my descendants. For instance, my writing and paintings are definitely something that I would like for my grandchildren to cherish after I am gone.

While sitting in the waiting room, I cracked open one of the last few chapters in my library book Louisiana Women: Their Life and Times, a fantastic compilation of biographical essays about powerful, intellectual Louisiana ladies. Women like Kate Chopin, who lived for a few years just south of where I now call home, helped pave the way for independent women writers. She was, and still is, seen as a fearless person who went against the norm of society and has lived on in pages of novels, short stories, and bios.

In 2010, when being a successful woman is the norm, what does it take to leave a legacy like the one Kate Chopin has left the world? Growing up we are taught that everyone has special qualities. So what is the new requirement for being special enough for a person's books to be read for years and years to come, to be the next Kate Chopin, Ernest Hemmingway, or Robert Penn Warren?