My appetite for writing down my thoughts continues unabashed. Admittedly a lot of what I’ve been writing about recently has been very private, given the utter shit life has thrown our way through October last year to even the last couple of weeks of this year but, as it does, things are levelling out.
I’m being oblique for good reason, just as I haven’t gone into great depth about my sisters sudden death because her daughters may read this (well her oldest, her youngest is only 4) nor have I really talked about the circumstances surrounding my Mum’s sudden death, this isn’t the place (nor is it my place) for such details because, at this point, the details are pointless and don’t change what has happened. Nor is it my place to comment on more recent sad news (fuck cancer is all I’ll say).
But I am still here, and so is this little blog, still chartering it’s (filtered) way through my life.
I do wonder what my son will think of it all, how much of it he will be able to parse, how much of it he might start to see himself within, and which parts he won’t understand at all. Of course by the time he reads this blog (presuming he has a cursory look at least) he’ll have likely read all the letters I’ve written to him these past few years (43 letters and counting) so who knows what he’ll discern or even care about. I am very aware this blog means a lot to me but very little to anyone else (as it should).
It is odd to think of this blog through a different lens, I mean I know other people read it from time to time, but mostly it’s always been a way for me to think out loud, to share my thoughts into the void. That vain desire remains, still pushed by the one time someone said something I’d written helped them and by all the comments and discussions held back in the early days when we all had blogs because we had time for them…
My blog has long stopped being a focus for me, it’s not a priority, yet it remains and these days, that’s all it really has to do.
I do still wear sunglasses though.
