I'm going to start writing again.
I came upon the realization that my life is too beautiful to go undocumented. unheard. unseen. this is the only life i get. i want to live it to the full and remember the amazing, messy, and lovely details of it when i'm old and wrinkeled.
There is so much to write about. My blog has been calling my name since May and i've been looking the other way pretending it's not there. it's like the blog's fly is open and i don't know it well enough to tell it "XYZ" (Examine Your Zipper for those of you who didn't grow up in the 90s.)
Even in the past day there have been precious moments that i've cherished with my hubby that i can feel leaving my memory like sand slipping through my fingers.
Josh coming home from work with his orange flannel on that matches the color of his hair. Boyish grin on his face full of excitement as he conceals a date surprise for later that evening. Asking him to just hold me for a while while melodies of "beautiful things" by Michael Gungor play in the background.
Spritzing purfume on my neck, hoping Josh will notice the sweet scent and comment later. Dining with new friends around a free meal at Carrabas where I tasted my first muscle and drank good wine while chatting about the World Cup, youth ministry, and babies.
Heading home with our fingers intertwined.
I may have a few grains left under my nails when it's gone, but unless i write the details down, it will forever be pushed away as my mind is filled with the next moment in time.
Also, I'm going to start saving for a new camera. a really good one. something like the one doug, my father in law, has.
something that will capture the gloriousness of all that surrounds me day in and day out. It truly is glorious. (and i'm not just saying that word over and over because it is about the only new year's resolution that i've stuck with.) I don't want to miss it. I don't want to forget it. I don't want to take it for granted.
I will no longer let the self-doubt of my posts not being deep, important, or revolutionary stifle my creativity. I will no longer tell myself that I have nothing to offer. At the very least I can offer this to my future self who will thank me for the memories to browse through when she's 80. Assuming the world wide web doesn't crash and the world doesn't end. :)