History

In the midst of end-of-summer cleaning and organizing, I come across this entry in my old writer's notebook, from January 17, 2001, a time when my life didn't make a whole lot of sense anymore.

I was sitting outside with my kids, on the grass of Garfield's field, and we were all writing.

But the sun... we're in the midst of winter and we've placed ourselves in the sun, as weak as it still is. I suppose you have a choice, really, when in winter to either place yourself in the sun to help make yourself a little bit warmer or to stay in the shade, or worse yet to stay inside, with artificial light that doesn't even oppose the numbness in your hands, ears, and nose.

It's such an obvious choice, really, to be in the sun. And not so difficult, most of the time. But I spent months inside AND in the shade, not even bothering to turn the lights on.

What a fool I've been, but I know I'd do it again. Sometimes that's just the way it goes.

Those of you who read this blog know that the year I was 25 was quite a year. I was living alone for the first time. It was my first year of teaching, which is stressful enough by itself, but those 365 days also saw the death of my grandma, the death of my dog, the divorce of my parents, and the beginning, ending, and re-beginning of an ill-fated love affair.

And to get myself through it all, I stayed inside and in the shade.

I know that you noticed. I spent years devoted to (and, I suppose, hiding in) nothing but teaching.

The legacy of that time still has not ended. Some of you I hurt the most during that time have, understandably, left my life forever, having given up on me, and they will never read this and never know how much I... regret.

But those of you who stuck with me -- thanks.