With a goal to post every day, going back in time and documenting all I missed, until I catch back up.
This past year threw me for a loop.
Age 3, times two, was hard.
But I excel at looking back through rose-colored glasses, which is why going back in time and writing about all the happy moments, holidays, meltdowns and celebrations I didn’t write about day of, will be possible. (Still, I’ve promised myself to remain honest and true.)
It’s a lot like this:
You step onto your porch and see the above lining your front walk and you think, Why are there drawings of penises all over my front walk? And you sigh and wonder where your children are and you think about all the things no one told you about parenthood and you realize how tired you are, how very, very tired you are, and you know there is no way you’re going to be able to write about this because it’s just too much.
And then you find your kids and you inquire and you realize what you thought were penises really are parking spots for scooters.
And everything seems so much better. Doable. Hilarious, even.
And that’s where I am now. Although I still have what look like drawings of penises all over my front walk, I know they’re parking spots for scooters.
And so, I’m diving back in. Because as difficult as this past year has been, there have been some really great moments. Things I worry about forgetting without documenting. And even the most difficult moments seem funnier, softer and easier, months after the fact—as is true for much of life.
Plus, I’ve realized how much I miss writing when not writing. And the act is much cheaper than traditional therapy.
So here goes.
“Don’t call the world dirty because you forgot to clean your glasses.” —Aaron Hill