It's been a while. At this moment in time, writing on my blog after such a long absence, I feel like a bartender on a slow night, greeting returning guests whom I haven't see in a while. The overhead lights are dimmed, the music is the same, but the drink menu has changed. We both need something stronger these days, like a brain tune up, or a knee replacement.
Here we are. I have changed. You have as well, although you may not readily agree. I see your clothes are newer. Your hair, a bit grayer. Your step, a bit slower, but your wisdom has deepened.
And I sit in a new place. A small room, closet sized. Actually, it was supposed to be a closet but I sparred with the builder to leave it open. I knew someday it would become something. Like me. After evolving, its become my writing room, although not much writing has taken place of late. But I hope to change that. (There's someone in my life who encourages me to return to writing, but my imagination has dried a bit.)
One of my favorite lines from a book (A Bear Named Song) is, 'We are all storytellers of one kind or another.' You might not write the stories down but you share them with friends, on Facebook, tell your spouse, and grandchildren and great grandchildren. Its posterity.
When I was in the neighborhood of a 10 year old, aspiring writer, my dad, a purple heart recipient of WW1 (you heard me right. No typo there) would regale my mother and older sister of his war stories. I was sent to bed. Too young to hear. Evidently, the ears of a fourteen year old were able to take it in without problem.
I lay in bed, frustrated. I so wanted to hear the stories my dad told. "When you are older, we will tell you." But somehow that slipped through the cracks. I cannot tell you about them, they cannot be used in my books, they are lost. A tragedy of epic proportions.
Blogging is a wild beast when, like me, its never about the same thing. I write mini stories and reflections. So, I guess I am writing by the seat of my pants and whatever walks into my life will be shared here.
But today I encourage you to write down your stories and thoughts. Tell them to your family. Let everyone in so they know who you are. How your life path has squirreled around, or how things turned out exactly the way you knew it would.
I have walked through spooky forests. Lost my path many times. Found new paths, some rocky. I have forged through scary times. I have walked in the sunshine, feeling love and alive. I have sat in hard places and cried. Each experience has become me and I carry that story.
Today, I was about to make my third apple pie in my entire life, but got distracted by plants. Birds Nest, Fig Leaf tree, and Rosemary. They are well watered, in their new pots and placed where I think they will be happiest.
