I was planning on calling this post "Back from the Dead," but I thought that might be too much of a downer. And it wouldn't mesh well with this cheery pic of Amelie painting at her easel. It's a "glass half full or half empty" kind of thing. Half full, it seems, is our winner tonight.This blog is once again a living, thriving, pixilated, virtual organism. I am breathing life back into it. Voila.
What happened? Like the rest of the world, I got busy over the holidays. And despite all the hoopla and rioting in the streets from my ardent fans, demanding that I resume blogging again, I resisted. I deferred. I demurred. Until now.
But really, I missed writing here. I missed having something that was mine in writing. I missed marking the time in my daughter's small life. Catching it, cupping it in my hands, honoring it.
Here is a conversation that Amelie and I had recently. Almost as it was happening, I thought, I must encase this in amber. Or at least blog it. So here goes. I should preface it by explaining that Amelie calls me "Deer" sometimes because of a character that I created in a bedtime story for her (a deer that she befriends and that takes her for rides on its back).
Amelie: Deer, can you fly?
Mama: No. Butterflies and birds can fly, but I can't. I don't have wings.
Amelie: I have wings to fly!
Mama: You do? Show me your wings.
(Amelie shoots her two little sausage arms into the air exuberantly.)
Mama: Those are great wings! Do you want to fly? Let's fly!
(Mama starts flapping her arms and running around the room. Sure, it looks ridiculous, but my girl is only two, right?)
Amelie (outraged): MAMA! YOU CAN'T FLY!
(Mama stops, listens.)
Amelie: You're too big!
Well, there you have it: "Playing Hooky" is alive and trying, perhaps futilely, to fly again. With any luck, this blog will grow its wings back.
