Dear reader, the house is rather quiet today. Jonny got on his flight this morning, Roger is at work, and the girls have returned to school. Sophie and Jakob are with us until the weekend (!), but at the moment they're fast asleep. I went for an early walk with Winnie, and while she remains nearby it's all she can do to keep her eyes propped at a bare squint.
The past few weeks have been filled with fun and family, rest and relaxation. I've sat back and marveled at it all--how we are "suddenly" at this stage of life with growing-up children and conspicuous change, and how quiet I sometimes feel as I watch it unfold. I wish I could untangle my thoughts and make sense of these things. It doesn't always seem possible to be such a seasoned adult, to occupy this seat at the table. In some ways I feel like an ancient soul and yet...still not sure if I'm old enough to be doing what I'm doing.
A cold bit of comfort I've picked up over the years: life doesn't seem unduly concerned about whether I feel old enough to handle what comes my way so perhaps I shouldn't be, either.
Moving on to the new year, then: a dubious goal I have for this blog is to try and write about lighter things. I honestly wonder if I can do it. Every time I come here, and without the slightest intention of doing so, I manage to snuff the fun out of the party by dwelling on the most sobering topics known to mankind. I do it in real life, too, at all the right moments: post office lines, dentist appointments, meeting people for the first time. It's just who I am, dear reader, it's part of my cachet.
My school semester will be starting soon and with it a counseling practicum...and it recently occurred to me (not for the first time, mind you) I possess the wardrobe equivalent of an unkempt teenager masquerading as the school librarian. So even though I KNOW there are weightier concerns in the universe, I may pause from these matters to consider my ongoing lack of sophistication (made even more apparent these days by the leggy girls who stalk around my house with their lipstick pouts and inadvertent ways of reminding me why I never got asked to prom), and the need to remedy the situation by trying to look like someone people might actually consider consulting for help as opposed to offering it.
If I were a betting woman, I'd lay odds my next post hammers down upon the meaning of life rather than what one might wear besides ill-fitting t-shirts and jeans...but you never know.
I might surprise us both.