In the last few days and hours it has become obvious that our family, both nuclear and extended, will not be having our normal Christmas – and haven’t been having a very normal time for the last little while. It has been extraordinarily difficult to blog away happily, acting as though this year is like any other, and so I’ve decided to stop pretending and worrying and devote my energies where they feel more right.
The reasons for our hard time are entirely private. It is not that it is something so awful I can’t tell, or so hurtful I can’t say, or even too shameful to speak of. It is none of those things, and doesn’t even start to be in that category, and I know that I when I say "something has happened and I won’t be blogging about it" it makes everyone wonder what hideous monstrosity must be going down over here, and it just isn’t like that. It is simply that the blog isn’t for everything- and that even if it’s something I don’t mind telling, it doesn’t always matter. That behind all of these stories and entries there are real people, and not every story belongs to me. The story of the last little while in this family belongs to someone else, and they will maybe tell it someday, in their own way, and in their own time, and if it serves them, but for now their story is their own entirely, and we are all working to have it unfold as destiny means for it to happen.
This family is lucky. We all have each other. We are all loved, we are all safe. We all have shelter, and none of us are hungry. This is what we will be thinking about right now, and as we stumble through the holidays in whatever fashion is right for this year, and I’ll blog as seems right as we go. We’re going to hunker down and love each other, and if we start to feel sorry that this year isn’t the way we would have it if we were in charge, I’m going to read this, and I’m going to remember that no matter how bad things seem, they could be worse.
Best to you all, back when I can be. Love what you’ve got. It’s all you’re really getting this year.