Happy Birthday to you.
One year ago I started this blog as a way to record our summer adventure.
It was also one small way to stake my claim in a life with little sure footing, as the world sees it.
Now it's a place where I think with my fingers and share my thoughts for others.
But I have to admit, the motivation for what I type is still mostly self-centered. It's a way to record for MYSELF what I was thinking that day, or what I learned. I keep an internal monologue at an almost constant pace and most of my most brilliant articles or thoughts slip through my fingers before I can pin them down in ink...or as it were...type.
Barbara Kingsolver writes in "Small Wonder" about losing her words at times too. Her musings sound like the truth I live sometimes: "When a poem does arrive, I gasp as if an apple had fallen into my hand, and give thanks for the luck involved. Poems are everywhere, but easy to miss. I know I might very well stand under that tree all day, whistling, looking off the the side, waiting for a red delicious poem to fall so I could own it forever. But like as not, it wouldn't. Instead it will fall right while I'm in the middle of changing the baby, or breaking up a rodeo event involving my children and the dog, or wiping my teary eyes while I'm chopping onions and listening to the news; then that apple will land with a thud and roll under the bed with the dust bunnies and lie there forgotten and lost for all time. There are dusty, lost poems all over my house, I assure you. In yours, too, I'd be willing to bet."
So here's to a year of apples saved from dusty rot. And to many more years of apple grabbing, recording my thoughts, blessings of clarity, and passing glimpses.
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