On not writing

I know that most of the time it looks like I don't write any more. I used to upload photos, share the adventures - whilst trying to remain looking semi-reasonable as I'd learned that there are people who occasionally drop in to say way nasty things to me if I am wholly open and honest - and even keep my postal addresses public so that if somebody wanted, they could write to me, which they did: every few months I'd get postcards and letters from around the world from people I had never met, and often there was no return address so the best that I could do was to write on my blog, "Thank you. Thank you for writing that!"

But now it's kind of like... tumbleweeds here. Boring tumbleweeds, at that.

In my head, I still write. I still have an almost constant brain-chatter going on as I walk with my kids or drive them to preschools or shop for groceries - as I go about my days, basically. But what has changed is my... life, I guess.

I am ever more reserved about writing about my children. The more independent they get, the less I write. I don't use their names any more and when someone comments whilst using their names, I delete those comments.

I don't get long stretches of hours any more to write. Blog can sometimes seem like an easy, relatable story of someone's days but it still takes time to write all that, and I haven't got much time any more. In the evenings when the kids are in bed I usually first just zonk out for half an hour and then do stuff that needs doing, and then it's 9 pm again and I know that if I hope to get 8 hours of sleep, I need to go to bed, too.

Occasionally I get myself together to write, but the raw, honest letters go to my friends; and sometimes on my blog.

But in my head, I still have an almost constant brain-chatter going on.

Occasionally, I come across other blogs that feel so close to my own head that sometimes it feels like I've written them myself, and Melina's adventures is one of them. This post, for example - as I was reading it, the room grew quiet and for the duration of the read, it felt like it was me; like I was being a little girl traipsing through Vermont hillsides.

And I know I could over-dramatise the importance of such blogs, but, God!, am I grateful for blogs like Melina's for they allow me to feel that writing isn't lost yet - that one day, when I have a little more hours in my days again, I will write again, and maybe I will even have my postal address on the side of my blog so that people I connect with I can write with.

Meanwhile, I'll continue with this here:



And when watching Pixar's "Cars" with The Kid, I'll remember this:


And when remembering the feelings of adventures, this:


Kind of different, isn't it.

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