Contemplating the first post on this blog reminded me a bit of the title of that classic Judy Bloom book. The feeling is a bit like calling out a greeting to an empty house, even while knowing that no one is home – your words are just bouncing off the walls with that slightly hollow echo that comes when no other living beings are there to hear them.
So even if no one’s listening just yet, I’m going to just start talking. I’ve resisted the urge to even tell my mother about this blog as she would certainly immediately follow it and post supportive and funny comments on all MY funny comments, and then call me to tell me how much she loves my writing (thanks, Mom). I might look back at this post and cringe, but nevertheless…here goes!
In high school and university, I loved to write. I was great in English class and even took creative writing as an elective. Like many teenage girls, I kept a diary (spoiler alert: I’m old enough that it was an actual paper and ink diary, hidden not behind encryption or passwords but rather taped to the back of my dresser for safekeeping). Maybe that’s why this first post feels a bit awkward and voyeuristic – blogging means actually wanting people to read what I write! Back then, it didn’t matter. I could just fill pages and pages with thoughts, poetry, song lyrics, even short stories, and it was just for pure, selfish enjoyment.
But somehow over the years, the writing stopped. Despite how much I loved to write, I grew up and life got in the way. Work, friends, husband, beagles – I just couldn’t find the time or space to put pen to paper. I stopped writing, and I lost something. I lost the satisfaction of turning thoughts, feelings, experiences into black and white words on a page.
I’ve been thinking for months, maybe years, about how to get it back. Fortunately I have a husband who indulges the solitary time that the only-child in me demands, and he thankfully supports my idle musings (“I’m going to take an online writing course!”, “I’m going to start a blog!”) that he probably thinks are completely random but which have been percolating in my brain sometimes for weeks before they come out. He’s so supportive that when he came in just now and asked to see what I was writing, he merely laughed at my shrieking “no, its private!” (um, hello? This IS for a blog post, right?).
So after all that, here it goes. I’m about to press “Publish” for the first time and publicly jump back into something that has always been a private passion. But passions, like comfort food and fine wine (or any wine), deserve to be indulged. Even if all I get in return is that slightly hollow echo sound…it’s worth it.