This was going to be titled “Return to Your First Love.” Then I googled the phrase and realized it had meaning that didn’t match my intention. So it is “Remember Where You Came From,” but it’s really about my first love. My first love is blogging. Back when Yahoo had a blog site I wrote two and three times a day. They were short little 300-400 word stories. Some of them were pull out my hair teacher stories, others were adventures from when I lived in Arizona. All of them encouraged people to see the happily ever afters in their day to day lives.
True story. My friend’s baby learned how to wave goodbye. Our small group of friends lost our minds with joy. We shrieked, “She waved.” The baby smiled, nestled her forehead in her father’s neck, and shielded her eyes from us. She gave us all she got and was done for the next couple of minutes.
The sad thing is this. Somewhere in this little girl’s life, people will stop celebrating the small milestone. Then she will forget to acknowledge her own growth. It happens.
This little nugget of information blew my mind. Why did we stop celebrating? When did we become complacent with growth? The smaller milestones are what get us to the larger moments people see. That message dominated the themes of my earlier blogs. Celebrate life. I made homemade biscuits from scratch. Boom! To keep the record accurate, that effort has never been duplicated. The homemade biscuit fairy must have moved on to the next person. But it was worth celebrating that one time.
Yesterday, I ran in the snow, and I liked it! As in, I chased after a runner to cheer them on, not caring about speed, falling, or getting my clothes wet…. in the snow. It was like I was ten years old again. My back not hurting afterward was a double bonus. The entire time, I thought, I used to be afraid of this. Like I thought the cold was a monster out to get me.
Now back to the first love, or where I came from. My heart has been telling me the time has come for me to return to blogging. To share the inspiration that pushes me to write novels. To share the books that make me laugh. To complain about the things that are relatable. (Seriously, I think my kids’ cell phones are broken. I haven’t heard from them in days) And, to share the stories that will never make it into books. Trust me; I have a lot of them.
If your socks match, you’re doing great. If they don’t that’s alright too. On my days away from people, my clothes never match. It’s a point of pride for me…then my husband posts them on Facebook. So, let that be the message from today’s post. Celebrate life.
Until the next post (insert heart emoji)