As many of you know, I accidentally deleted roughly 300 posts from my blog a couple years back.
I’m bringing back my favorites. Unfortunately, this means you’ll see many new post notifications for old posts, which will quickly seem to disappear because my assigning them their old dates changes their URLs.
Please click here for a listing of posts returned so far.
If you have another moment to spare, check out my 20-year bloggingversary post here. My life has improved greatly thanks to my publishing that first post June 23, 1995.
Last night I wrote about how I haven’t seen my friends enough since I had my second child.
Today my family and I joined our friend Rara and her mamasaur at a playground. We chatted while running after my kids, and in between my older son’s breathless entreaties to race him. (Spoiler alert: He always wins, but his races are just on the other side of fair.)
We all went to eat. My oldest sat next to Rara and nuzzled her as if they’d known each other forever; maybe they have. My littlest one didn’t so much eat as smear rice all over the table.
I cheered out loud when I saw her little dinosaur.
My continued cheering quietly as we said farewell. See you soon.
After returning home, I read her newest post. It answers the question, “Where’re you goin’?”
I didn’t know that earlier, when I told her I’m not sure where I’m headed. I only have the vaguest idea.
What I do know for sure is that I’ll be in good company getting wherever “where” is.
Today I visited with friends.
I haven’t done that much since I had my second child last year.
I haven’t had the time or energy. Since I already drive at least three hours each weekday, I haven’t wanted to negotiate drives further than five minutes away from home on the weekends. Weekday evenings have been completely out of the question.
My husband’s nudged me toward the door. He’s encouraged me to make time with girlfriends, suggesting it’ll lift me up like no words on a screen ever could. I’ve waved him off, thinking I was doing myself a favor by avoiding the drive, the time, the emotional output.
I knew my husband was right when my heart plummeted as my friends walked away today. I wanted to shout, “Don’t leave! Please! Let’s just stay here for another ten minutes! Or five? I’d even take three!” Instead, I quietly helped pack my family’s things with tears in my eyes. Read more…
Rara’s out, which is great, but not all is made great by her out-ness. Keep sending that #RawrLove.
Originally posted on Stories that Must Not Die:
This is post 6 of 6, and concludes the series of poems and prose that Rara sent to be shared with the Stories community.
In a bit of good news, she was released early on July 18th.
Still, if you can, and you haven’t already, please donate to the Rara Relief fund. Every little bit will help her get back on her feet.
He wouldn’t be caught dead
In brick-ugly maroon, he declared
And I asked – –
Would it make the stars fade?
YES. He said,
With a certainty most reserve for big truths.
(But then – he never believed in measuring truths. Or dreams. Or possibilities. Or the cosmos.)
He wouldn’t have been caught dead
in a brick-ugly maroon box – –
but then he was,
and in appreciation of the way he let them be
– – limitless – –
the stars let him be right…
View original 12 more words
How can there be
a storm and a song
in my heart
one to weep
and the other to wonder?
What strange supposition,
that the human heart
must be so small!
knowing no better, perhaps?,
dance while dreading;
lift while lurching;
hug while hurting;
blow kisses while bidding adieu;
for more feelings
than there are words.