I have for years, longed to make this little space wholly mine. To write what needs saying or remembering: Write what seems pertinent at the moment. To sometimes just rant or blather on about nothing. To push aside that inner naysayer/grammar critic and just write. When I am not here putting down those memories that flit away all to quick, I am dreaming about being here....writing something. I have a constant commentary running with words compiled just for this space. Pictures dance in my head of what this place could be, the scrapbook of Life lived it might become.
But alas, Life, she is a Heavyweight player. She takes my hand and leads me down roads I'd rather not take. She is continually distracting me with the things that "need" doing, pushing me here or there. She calls me back to reality when I would rather stay in my garden with the plants that don't back talk. Life pulls me from deepest sleeps to wipe fevered brows and soothe away nightmares. She is the friend in desperate need of an ear when the children are wild and screechy. She is the overdue bills and tragic death. She is the dinner burned and acrid, a dead refrigerator full of rotted food, your favourite blouse stained. She is the skinned knees and broken hearts. Life is the never ending laundry and dirty dishes; the weeds that never stop growing and the blackberries that threaten to take over everything.
Life is here also, in the seeking of beauty in the "everyday". She is here in the mess and detritus of this homeschool life, where we push the laundry off the couch and snuggle up to read "Little House" again. Life is here, in the body shaking belly laughs of my small ones. She is here, in that one great lucky shot, where the picture taken exceeds all expectation. She is glass half-full, not half-empty or broken and spilled. She is here, in the hot jealous tears and the teaching moment. Life is here, in lovingly hand-made notes tucked into the letterbox. She is tucked into beds with fresh pressed sheets.
She is here, in all the good
the crackling fire
blue pools for swimming
good books and The Good Book
loved ones to hug tight
dancing in the rain
grace, peace, mercy and forgiveness
good hair days
pants that fit
and bad and ugliness of every day.
Here in this place, Life is calling out to be lived fully; remembered wholly and documented carefully. Here, with my words-with my photos-with my rants, blathering and grammatical faux pas , Life is the collective memory I hope to fearlessly record in this place.