Hello friends

Hello out there. . . I feel a little shy, like making a tentative entrance to a party, looking around to see if there's anyone I know, checking to make sure I'm neither over nor under-dressed, my contribution for the table held a bit too tightly. . .

I had mono this spring. Actually, February through the first of May seemed one long siege of sickness, but that last one. . . I was sicker than I have ever been, and still recovering my energy even now. Sick enough that I looked around at home projects I had done and marveled that apparently in other times I've had the strength to keep up with laundry and housework and cooking and create and paint and arrange too.

The photo above is like a little celebration-- the first day I slipped the strap of my camera around my neck and squinted into the viewfinder. And a few days after that, I traced and ironed on the designs for the lovely Alicia's Pleasant Kitchen dishtowels and threaded my needle. Last night, the kitchen smelled like homemade granola bars that I didn't have to make, that I made only to see the smiles of my boys at breakfast.

As I began to recover, I spent a lot of time mulling over what I missed. When all the busyness of even this quiet homebody was stripped away, when the thought of anything optional was purely exhausting, what did I miss? In addition to the strength to wife and mother in the way I want, what did I long for in those long hours? And what slipped away without my notice, and left space and time that was a benefit and not a loss?

When I could move beyond the "have-tos," to what would I want to return?

I missed taking pictures. I missed baking bread and making cards and embroidering. I missed "fluffing up" our house and moving things around for a fresh perspective. I missed puttering outside. I missed the mental energy for long e-mail chats about what really matters. I missed the thousand little luxuries of doing simple things well and artfully and with attention.

And, a bit to my surprise, I missed this space. This place to share little bits and pieces, the moment when I read back over something I've written and my life somehow makes more sense to me, that feeling of connection and understanding with others, the conviction I have long held that a life examined creatively is more fully lived.

So I'm back. Never sure of how frequently or how well. Quietly, thankful for even the energy to consider words and images lovingly shaped.

Hello. Spring is here. When you are away from your life for some reason, what do you miss? What do you let fall away?