I’ve missed you. Actually that’s not completely true. While I was away I didn’t miss you at all. There’s now so many other ways to connect with people, my desire to connect here was sated by Instagram and Facebook and, lately, Reddit of all places. I’ve been writing courses and love letters and a magazine column and that’s satisfied my need to write, but I’ve been feeling the urge to connect in different ways and share words that aren’t attached to any other outcome other than their expression. I’ve started working on a short story just for the hell of it, just because I need to write. I’ve been looking back at the old days of blogging with a wistful smile. It was exciting to share words on the internet! To connect with people all over the world. We shared our stories on our blogs because that was the only place we had to share them. We wrote poems and took pictures of our homes and dedicated posts to our online friends who were hurting — I have blog posts printed out and stuck in my old journals.
I started blogging in 2006 a few months after I’d turned 33. A year and a few months into my bereavement. A lot has changed since then, and as I read back posts from that time — no longer public but saved as drafts — I want to reach a hand back to that young woman and tell her it’s going to be okay. She will change and evolve and she will thrive. If I’d known then what I know now I might have given up — to still be single and perfectly content with that? To not be a mother and have reached an ever-evolving acceptance of that? My 33-year-old self could not have imagined that’d be possible and yet here I am. I made it into the future.
So I wonder, dear blog, if it’s time for us to renew our acquaintance. Shall we give it another go?