goodbye

i have watched myself slowly leave this space. it's been an interesting process. as the years have gone on, i've written less and less and wondered is it that i have less to say or less time to say it? or is it that my kids who were so small when i began here are now fully their own people and somehow writing about them is a breach into sacred space- they own their stories now. 

for months and even years i have wrestled and judged myself for not being more disciplined to sit and write, to make time to show up here. then i would occasionally find a word about seasons of silence or dormancy being of great value and importance and i would cling to that, rest in it, trust it. 

and when i did rest in that silence, what i came to see is that this season, here, is over. this blog that began 12 years ago when zoe was 11 and had eaten 3 large earthworms on a february afternoon, has served its purpose. i needed to write. i was about to explode. i was alone and i needed to share my days without needing to see the faces of the people who were hearing about it- i didn't want pity or that awkward look from a parent of a neurotypical kid who looks guilty for their  'normal' life. and i wanted anyone who was going through the same thing to not feel alone. and i wanted to remember. i wanted a record. our histories are important. perhaps most of all, writing my days was transformative for me- i started in one space and at the end of it, i had arrived at another, a better place. i would bring myself further along - it was my work.

now, zoe doesn't live at home.  i have 3 teenagers who do, 2 high schoolers and 1 in middle school. my internal work has shifted as we try to love each other well in a complicated world. 

i read this mary oliver poem today that seems so fitting- it's called:

WE SHOULD BE WELL PREPARED

The way the plovers cry goodbye.

The way the dead fox keeps on looking down the hill with open eye.

The way the leaves fall, and then there's the long wait.

The way someone says; we must never meet again.

The way mold spots the cake, the way the sourness overtakes the cream.

The way the river water rushes by, never to return.

The way the days go by, never to return.

The way somebody comes back, but only in a dream.  

this day will never return like all those years when my kids were littles. we must live into our days as fully as we can and love each other well. i have loved this space so much- it was a place of birth for me- it was life giving and i hesitate to say goodbye. living overseas 'goodbye' became such a part of life that in order to survive you had to become 'friends' with goodbye. goodbyes are complicated because they are hard, and sad and no one likes them but they are so important and they are such an opportunity for connection and goodness, that is too often missed because of the fear of discomfort. goodbye's bring closure so we can begin again.

i'm beginning to get ready to begin again. to start something new. whatever that looks like- it may be here with a different focus, a different name, or not. i will wait ad see. and so it's time to say goodbye to this space as it has been. thank you all for listening!