For days now, my first thought in the morning has been that today is the day that I must pick up the dropped threads of my blog. After all, I’ve been blogging since 2006. I checked just now, and my last blog post was June 08, just shy of a month ago. But where to begin? I think I’ll go wash my hair.
Truly, that’s been sort of my
attitude. A Scarlett O’Hara-type tendency to put off what I’m not sure about dealing
with. When this attack on my physical well-being began, I was woefully ignorant
of how severe the impact would be. Just a minor problem while I went merrily
about my family, writing, and social life. In the hospital I wrote, in my mind,
great blogs and even roughed out a new Irene adventure (she told me she was not
through yet, but where she got this hare-brained idea, I’ll never know). I had
no idea how hard everything would be. For goodness sake, walking from my bed to
my desk this morning with the four-wheeled walker was a major challenge. Write
another Irene novel? Maybe on down the road, but not this week, thank you.
My blog started as a mix of
writing, cooking, and grand-mothering. Pretty much all of that is changed now
(yes, I sometimes want to howl, “I want my old life back!”) The grands are
mostly grown—youngest is now sixteen (maybe seventeen—I lose track). Because I
have had a tracheostomy, my meals are liquid and bypass my mouth and taste buds
completely—so boring. I guess I have always measured out my life not with
Prufrock’s coffee spoons but with meals—they were like punctuation for each
day. Without that incentive, there goes maybe half my blog. Writing remains,
but I am not sure even avid readers want to read about writers and their doings
all the time.
Originally the blog was a stew
of those three elements, but eight years ago when I downsized to my cottage, I
made a half-hearted attempt to change it to “View from the Cottage.” It seemed
to me that my view of the world then was limited to what I could see from the
cottage—like the tiny sliver of the street in front of the house and the glimpse
of children walking to elementary school. But that wasn’t really true then—to a
certain extent I was out and about in the world. Now my view really is limited
to what I see—and hear and read—from the cottage. So what do I write about?
I am loathe to give up the
blog. I’ve made so many good friends, met so many interesting people. For me,
the blog is like Emily Dickinson’s letter to the world. My blog links me to a
wide, wide world, and I like that a lot.
So bear with me. I’m not extraordinarily
private, but I do promise not to share daily medical updates. I am known for
strong political opinions, and I’ll likely share more of that. I’ll watch for
other topics, and maybe you’ll have some ideas to share.
Can we start View from the
Cottage, Part II together? I’d be so grateful if you’d take this new journey
with me.
