My blog is eleven years old. For years I wrote almost every day. I drove the Cabinet Maker crazy but I had read "if you want to be a writer, the best thing to do is to write each and every day." It didn't have to be anything grand or glorious, just a steady flow of words from the heart. And so I wrote.
It's quite obvious that some pieces are better than others. Some are funny, others serious. Writing has preserved silly kid stories, family history, and childhood memories. It's carried me through dark days and difficult times. I've said a final goodbye to both my parents, cried with friends and family, and celebrated weddings and the births of ten grandchildren. I've recorded each and every one.
Writing is harder these days. I spend many hours sitting with my friend in the nursing home. My days aren't as fun or amusing and the stories feel redundant. I'm in a different season, one I don't know quite how to process. I miss the days of silly children running round and round my kitchen table while my aged mother told them to "slow down." I'm trying to keep up with reading blogs as well as writing, but I fear I'm lagging behind... Thankfully, spring is on its way, and with spring comes sunshine, fresh air, and new life, so I'm looking forward to finding a friend or two for a photo excursion, inviting my kiddos and their kiddos over for a picnic, and finding my way down to the lake.
Don't give up on me quite yet.
1 hour ago