I won't pretend that I know I'll come back here, though I'd like to think I will.
I'd like to come back to this journal, this place where I thought about being a mom. Where I thought about family. Where I thought about how those things intersected with a person who felt like, feels like, more than those things.
The last few years have been a swirl of children: my four (with a fifth on the way in January), and my three nephews and one niece who live within ten minutes of me.
I've focused my creative energy on building up my photography (both as what I'd like to believe is art and as business- Brackish Photography, if you want to take a look).
The rest has been days spent homeschooling Gus and Arlo, while Sena for all intents and purposes completely homeschools herself. It's been avoiding housework and trying to sneak out with friends from time to time. It's been stirring meat and vegetables. It's been reading less than I'd like and hardly writing at all. It's been the beautiful and the mundane.
Maybe I'll be back on Monday. Maybe I'll tell you about what we did this weekend. Maybe next week I'll show bits and pieces of our home. Maybe I'll sink deep into my thoughts and share them.
Or maybe another year will pass and my sister Claire and my mom and dad will lament that I stopped doing this and I'll look here again and feel a pang of regret.
