Last weekend, I got a little brave. I shared some of my writing goals with my family and talked to the kids about my blog. They were so young when I blogged before, it didn’t occur to me to include them, but now I’m going to need some consent to share embarrassing content )and some support if I’m going to find time to actually write it all down(.
In any case, we spent a couple of hours kicking around all these old memories, and along the way, I impressed myself with some of my writing.
So… I offer to you, on a platter of fragile ego, 5 pieces of what I believe to be my best work. Please tell me what’s good (and what isn’t). That ego is gonna need some calluses if I’m gonna make it out there.
I was amused to find I had written many, many posts about nature and seasons, but in Texas, I wrote a lot about heat. I loved the humid Texas summers, and I think this post captures the intoxicating trance of it all. Also, it holds little priceless glimpses of when all my littles were little, and I’m so blessed to revisit those moments I otherwise would have forgotten.
Anyone who knows me well knows I’m so terribly flighty. When I had three young kids, it was especially problematic. I was forever losing things and forgetting important dates or tasks. This post reminds me that while I’ve come a long way, I might always need some coping strategies to be even kinda functional. It also makes me thankful all over again that I married Matt.
My sister’s husband is my exact opposite on some levels- he’s never wanted kids, is less than religious, and shakes his head a lot of the time when I talk. But he’s witty and smart and personable, and I’m a sucker for wit. Sometimes I address posts to him because I’m not sure anyone else is reading, and I like to think I amuse him. This post was just a fun update on our little family- addressed to Justin.
The world has a new understanding of grief. Events that rock your world are now better labeled traumas, but long before researchers knew, anyone who has ever experienced significant loss could have told you that grief doesn’t settle in stages- it rebounds- like PTSD, triggered by an image, a sound, a smell. This post describes a moment that should have been joyful and how it turned sour in an instant.
Because we shouldn’t end with that last piece, here’s another weather post, also a bit about suicide loss, but most importantly, a message of hope. Plus, I love the picture.