Back in the saddle

Dear poor neglected blog,

I'm sorry you have been so ignored.  I go back and forth in my desire to capture the stories of my life on your pages.  At times I have felt eager and prolific, others deflated (or, worse) indifferent.  I spent the last 20 minutes trying to figure out what should be your background when, in the end, I could care less.  Colors and pictures and styles don't give shape to my world.  Words do.  So, I'm trying to buckle down and do what my college writing professors always said.  Writers write.  They stare at the blank page until drops of blood form on their foreheads.  Their pencils long outlast their erasers.  And they write.

I'm itching to pen my goals and promises.  How many minutes I'll spend writing.  How many words I will write. How I will write.  How I will use my writing to remember.  Because life is flashing by my eyes and I will forget.  I have forgotten.  I am forgetting.

My smallest baby sleeps through the night and hasn't nursed in nearly a year.  My biggest baby needs deodorant and razors.  The ones in between are learning to ride bikes, to tie shoes, to speak Spanish.  They are losing teeth and reading books.  And I'm forgetting.

So I tell you I will try.  I have stories.  I want to remember.  I will try.

I will write.