This is Miss Susan enroute to her new home with us when she, too, had an opportunity to begin again.
This is Miss Susan enroute to her new home with us when she, too, had an opportunity to begin again.

One of life’s most difficult things, I have noticed, is to begin again when others are watching. For me it has always been much easier to garner my private failures and tell no one when I try again, harder, ever hopeful, differently this time, but perhaps with the same possibility of failure.

For the past six months I’ve been meaning to blog. I’ve got a list of good topics. I think about it regularly. But then I don’t actually do it, and the longer I don’t the harder it is to come back again. Until we get here: six months of silence. But then, six months of a lack of communication isn’t really six months of silence in reality, is it? It’s not like nothing was happening in my life. Then to begin again – does one attempt to rehash six months of not blogging every day? How exactly is one expected to do justice to such an endeavor? But then is the only alternative to blithely pick up where one left off, just ignoring the gap in dates and hoping that those who notice don’t care? I’ve tried both in the past. Neither one is fun, I think.

Perhaps this is the middle ground. Taking the note off the door that the janitor has posted – you know the one: I have no idea where Sare’s gone, but she’s not here right now and I’ve no idea when she’s coming back. Stop giving me side-eye and don’t track mud through the hallway. 

So, hello. It’s time to begin, again.