Rusty like a tin can.

Rusty like a tin can.

About five minutes ago, my thought was this: “Ya know, if I’d just wait another week, it would mark an entire year since I’d dusted off this ol’ blog.” And then about three whole minutes later it was…”Ah. Who cares.” 

I’m a huge eye-roller at people who think their absence in posting leaves others waited on bated breath for their return. 

But you know what? Last night, I had a fascinating conversation with our 13yo. He’d just written a poem that he was assigned to read as a voice over to a slide show of photos that he’d selected to tell his story. In his poem, titled “Where I’m from,” he talked about how he belonged. Belonged to baseball and dirt. God. His family. He spoke of love and kindness and manners, and he spoke about photo books scattered all over the house where our memories never get forgotten. And then he asked me to please take more pictures of him. Of us. Of all the silly and hard and quirky things. 

I tossed and turned all night last night thinking that through. 

We are built to belong. Whether its on a team or in a seat or in the kitchen or as a driver-to-all-things-baseball. Even if its in cyberspace. 

I’ve had more than one spooky conversation within the last week about that connectedness (spooky because of the timing). About the like-it-or-not ways that we’re pulled apart from each other – necessarily because of work, obligations, family time, etc. – yet we can still peek in on each other through blogs, Instagram, Facebook, and other social media. It’s not all evil. It doesn’t have to be a time suck. 

It doesn’t have to replace the really good things. But it sure can complement that stuff.

So I’ll dust off this rusty ol’ tin can of a blog. Let’s see what happens, shall we?

And thanks to this young man, for being an inspiration and an encourager. But he’s grounded for making me cry and lose sleep. ;)

And just one more thing, please.

You might be wondering why on earth there’s a picture of a kitten up there at the top. Yesterday, I had a conversation that freed me a little bit, but hurt an awful lot. It was with a new-to-me vet at the clinic (I had to take Woodpile the Kitten to his first visit), and we chatted a little and swapped funny stories about our animals. I admitted then that I had lost my favorite cat of all time a little over a year ago and I had been on the fence about this kitten, but he was starting to grow on me bit by bit. The doc confided that he had a dog like that once, and it took him three years to get another. He also said that we usually get just one pet like that in all of our life. 

So we took Todd Helton the Cat off of my account. 

You guys. Hurts so much still, but I’ll give our new little guy a shot. He really is growing on me. 

RIP THTC. I can’t tell if this is a blurry pic or if there’s something in my eye, but you’re still my superhero.

 

 

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