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Posts Tagged ‘moving’

I wrote my first post here on October 19th, 2009 — “Dreams”. Seems like an unusual amount of chaos and disconnect and friendship and love and loss and complete and ultimate connectivity has taken place in the year since I hit the publish button for the first time.

I remember sitting, trance-like, at my dining room table looking obsessively at the blog stats — it reached 27 that day. I was completely blown away. Twenty-seven people who I didn’t have to force to sit down beside me and look at my blog had read something I wrote. Someone even commented (okay, so it was my niece but I didn’t force her to do it — not really). Many things have changed since that day a year ago — many things have rocked my corner of the internet, my little corner of the universe.

I’m not one of those people who says, “I’d do it all over again and not change a thing”, I would change many things. I envy those who can look back on a year of their life and not cringe and wish for a do-over — isn’t that what learning and evolving is all about? Don’t we all have moments we wish never happened?

I also look back on this year and think about some of the truly beautiful people I have come to know and the truly beautiful experiences I have been a part of. There was dinner get togethers and lunches out. There was dancing at concerts and talks in coffee houses. There was discussions of books and laughter at movies. There were new people discovered and old friends found. There was a calm peace, a deep breath, and moments of leaping.

I’ve often wondered if I said too much here on First Pages — if I crossed the line in what should have stayed buried in my thoughts and what I decided to spread across these pages. I’ve read wonderful comments about how I said something that you couldn’t or wouldn’t — and I wonder… why? I’ve read comments that questioned my character. I’ve read comments that made me laugh and made me cry. I’ve read your comments and felt my soul fill up with the love and curiosity that I hope they were meant to have. And, on occasion, I have sulked away from this blog questioning my own intentions.

What I’ve discovered about writing, as an art form, in this last year (and please don’t confuse that statement with me thinking this is an art form here — merely a thought process) is that once a reader reads the words… the words become theirs, the meaning becomes theirs, the interpretation becomes theirs. And that’s how it should be.

I thought this would be a good opportunity for me to point out some of the posts that I completely embraced and made my own heart ache when I pushed the publish button, these may not have been the posts that received the most views or the most comments, but they are the posts that I go back to… when I need.

I think, in life — in blogging — in living each day, it’s important to look back occasionally. When we look back, we can see where we are going so much clearer. The past can sometimes cloud our thoughts and fill us with the want of a do-over — I guess, for me, I’ll never get that do-over — and actually, I’m not sure I want it. I will take a “let’s start from here” though.

I’m working on establishing a schedule for posts. I will (attempt) to post on Tuesday’s, Friday’s, and a weekend post. Of course, the joy of writing for fun is that you never know when the fun will want to be released. Also, I plan on putting up some poetry occasionally and I will continue to try my hand at flash fiction. I hope you stick around — you never know what might come out on these pages!

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Free From TBB

It just dawned on me, walking my dog as I came up the sidewalk in front of my house and looked at the “for sale” sign perched so invitingly there in my front yard, that someone else lives in my house now. Not this house… the home I grew up in. My childhood home — the only house I ever lived in until I purchased my first house when I was around 27. The new couple has been there for almost two years now. I don’t know anything about them. I don’t know if they’re young or old. I don’t know if they’re still there.

I feel like I should send them a letter and let them know what they bought. A letter to tell them about all the memories in my house. I wonder if they know I used to sneak in and out of my bedroom window… we all did. It was a well-known fact among my friends that my window was the easiest way to gain access to my house — everyone knew it except my parents. I wonder if they know there is hard wood in the hallway under that carpet and I used to practice sock skating and played with my Evil Knievel wind-up motorcycle endlessly there. I wonder if they know that my parents used the big closet in their bedroom to hide (unsuccessfully) all the Christmas presents… each year… as if we never knew. Sometimes, I just wonder.

I wonder if they know about all the memories in the yard. I wonder if they know that we had those three perfectly placed trees for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd base. I wonder if they know how all the neighborhood kids used to gather there and play until it was too dark to see anymore. I wonder if they know about that boat that my dad kept in the backyard — so long that a tree grew out of it. I wonder if they know how I planted that evergreen when I was in high school. I wonder if they know I used to make jelly with my grandmother out of those grapes growing on the back fence. Sometimes, I just wonder.

I wonder if they know about all the memories on the front steps. I wonder if they know my brother and his “band” used to set up there and entertain the neighborhood. I wonder if they know all the goodnight kisses I had on those steps. I wonder if they know how meticulously my father decorated the porch for every holiday — ever. I wonder if they know how we used to jump off the end of the porch and clear those bushes in one bound while we were playing tag. I wonder if they know my father would stand on those steps and whistle so loudly that we could never get away with saying we didn’t hear. Sometimes, I just wonder.

Sometimes, I just wonder. I wonder do they know all about these things? I wonder what memories they’re making in my old house. I wonder who will buy my current house — I hope they have memories here. Good memories. New memories.

I used to think the house held all the memories. But it’s the people. We hold all the memories. I wonder what memories my children and I will make in our new home. Sometimes, I just wonder.

My bedroom was just to the right of the front door in this picture.

And I wanted to share my new favorite song by my new favorite group, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. I think the words to this song are very powerful, they give me hope — not to mention the awesome singing… enjoy.

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