Hello blog. It’s me, Molly. I know you’re there, even if I’m not.
Are you lonely? Probably not. I happen to know that a couple hundred people still stop by every day, even if they don’t always say hello. I’ve even stopped by a few times, just to make sure you haven’t been hijacked, and I haven’t said boo.
I talk to you all the time. In my head. I know you can’t hear me, but I keep on blabbing away, quite often incoherently, and without spell check. Can you believe I had to look up the word “approve” in the dictionary the other day? One p? Two p’s? How many o’s? I can’t even remember why I needed to know how to spell approve.
I do miss you. You’re a convenient receptacle for my thoughts, and you check my spelling with the click of a button. You also force me to edit my ideas, sort them out, narrow them down a bit. Without you, I gather a jumble of random musings and dump them all on George the minute he comes home from work (I think he misses you too). It’s like when I run into the grocery store for just one item, and I don’t grab a cart or basket, and I end up with an armful of groceries I didn’t know I needed. Then I run into a friend and, as we chat, drop a container of yogurt on the floor, and when I reach down to pick it up, there goes the bread. Yeah, it’s kind of like that.
You’re also a good place to store my memories. My ability to retain them is going the same way as my ability to spell simple words. Did I ever tell you I placed third in the school spelling bee when I was in the third grade? 1st and 2nd place went to sixth graders. Well, maybe my memory isn’t so bad after all. But still, I like sharing my memories with you. You make them more vivid, you allow me to relive those moments I hold dear. I tell you things that I probably wouldn’t otherwise tell anyone at all. Here’s two recent memories I think you’d like, ones I don’t want to forget anytime soon.
The other night, Aidan and I went for a walk in the rain. We wanted to confirm that his new rain gear was in fact waterproof, and find the deepest puddle on our street (which happened to be thigh high on Aidan - now he knows to wear his rain pants over his boots rather than tucking them in). I opened the front door after pouring the water out of Aidan’s rain boots and found George sitting in the armchair next to the fire, reading Walden. My heart skipped a beat.
Then last night, the kids and I were playing Apples to Apples, and when we turned over a green card that read, “Powerful”, Aidan said, “I have the perfect card!”
He laid down a red card that read, “My Family”. That’s my boy.
Our family life without the internet has included many walks, lots of games, and even more books. George and I have been reading our way through the wonderful world of dystopian literature (to borrow my sister-in-law/high school English teacher’s phrase). It all started with The Postman, followed by those classics we should have read (and maybe did read) in high school: Fahrenheit 451, 1984, Lord of the Flies. But yesterday I finished my favorite so far: The Giver by Lois Lowry (recommended by my dear high school English teacher/sister-in-law). By far the shortest dystopian book I’ve read, I think it said more by saying less. I’ve picked up the next book in Lowry’s trilogy, Gathering Blue, and I look forward to digging in tonight, preferably in the armchair next to the fireplace. I’ll be thinking of you. And I’ll try to come back with thoughts and memories, sooner than later.
P.S. Are you loving Fall as much as I am?