Hello dearest ones! This blog has been left alone for quite some time. In fact, when I look back at the archive of posts I see that I didn't write a single thing in the year 2015.
2015. Yes, that's the year your were born, dear Theta. I could apologize for the lack of documentation but I've been in the thick of it. For the past fourteen months I have been mama to two daughters. Two. Sometimes it feels gluttonous to even say it. For fourteen months I have been drenched in the light of your sunshine and also occasionally, drenched in bodily fluids. Yours, mine and ours, to be precise. And it's been amazing. Really truly, 2015 was the best year of my life to date. For the past fourteen months I have cared very little about writing, very little about personal pursuits in general. Only in the past few months have I begun to gets glimpses of my old self, the self that craves writing, alone time and quiet. For fourteen months I have let go of my introverted needs and lived in the noise, stink and joy of mothering two girls. I have you two to thank for that time spent away from myself. Really, thank you.
But all was not lost from that beautiful year. I did manage a few journal entries. This one from April 2015 pretty well sums up the feeling of last year.
" I am the mother of two astounding daughters, girls whose eyes stun me, whose hair burns a hole in the middle of my chest. Their beauty seers me. And I know, somehow, finally, that this will all be swept into the ocean when the tide of this moment recedes. They will be grown girls reading books with flashlights in the night, write their own journals, become enamored with horses or dolphins or fairies. They will stretch up into trees, their bodies becoming foreign entities. They will become secretive and mischievous. I look forward to all of it, to mothering them through it all. But now they are small, bitty things that I can fold up into my heart, that call for me. A part of me adores this phase, being their sun and moon. Part of me hears what older wiser mothers have warned and stops to kiss buttery baby cheeks, tickle chubby bellies and smell their wet hair. Part of me is immersed in this thing called motherhood like I've donned an extremely heavy but luxuriously soft cloak. But another part of me misses who I once was and wonders impatiently who I will be once the fog lifts, once they need me less."
And of course, there were pictures taken. Many pictures but obviously not enough.
I don't intend to try to "catch up" with this last year but I have been putting some thought into how this blog should continue now that I have two lovely daughters to write to. I won't set anything in stone but I think I will proceed by writing to both of you, sometimes together, sometimes separately. But for now, I am off to dust off a resume that has sat useless for almost 2 years. More on that later.
I love you my strong, precious girls,