These are the days you dream of when they're 2

Tenacious S put out the call for the old bloggies to sit their middle age spread down and write, for god's sak. If we ever needed it, it's now. So here I am, having battled many a password shenanigans to be here. 

Since we've last talked, I've gained a life partner, a step-son, a cat, a basset hound and have since lost no one further. I'm holding conversations on Facetime, Google Meetups, Zoom calls and baby showers close to my heart these days.

But It's Sunday and I'm writing at my desk for once. It's quiet. I think back to this blog when I was active and how much it was about the noise around me. And while there's a lot I don't miss, I do miss Riley grabbing my index finger and dragging me around and Lucy asking to watch Cars again. But now, they've got their own thing, as humans do. And we've got a step Efrem, who is right in the middle age-wise between them. I mean, 2002, 2003, 2004 in late March and early April is second Christmas around here! And I celebrate this springtime event more than anything in the world. 

Speaking of Christmas, we didn't really celebrate it 2019. We are all worn out and didn't even know Covid was around the corner. No tree, no parties, really. We didn't go to the family party taking a brief trip out to Philly to take Lucy to see her girlfriend. 

I tell you what, I just realized that I couldn't sustain the magic. And I was the only one pushing for it anyway. My Dad is the King of Christmas. He made every one TO THIS DAY magical AF. I wanted to pass that on to my kids. But they were cool with the low-key and now so am I. We'll see if I can get to a middle ground, because I do love laying on the couch within the dogpile of family who belong to this interspecies community, and looking at the tree. It's just really pretty. 

As I while away my free hours, playing Animal Crossing, I start planning for Christmas on my island, not being a Halloween fan by any means. There are pine trees and elves (well, gnomes) and my house already looks snow-covered.

So, it is quiet, (as I said). It's the kind of quiet I had wished for so hard 12 years ago. I'm glad about that, but with all real love, your memories are a doily full of hearts, but singed on the edges. There is the almost beautiful, now, memory of the pain and the love fills all the negative spaces. 

I miss you all, and I look forward to maybe restarting another old tradition: sitting down for work with some caffeine, glancing at the inbox, and then starting a quick tour of what you wrote today, write something myself and then happily start my day with random words of kindness you supplied in the comments along the way. It's like having a gently lit Christmas tree in your pocket, changing colors for a moment so that you can remember the joy of family when you least expect it and never would have thought to ask it these days. 

I love you,

Jenny