Hear me out

Good morning daffodil in the hallway outside my bedroom door.

Hello, old friends.

It's been a while, no? If any of you are as bad at keeping in touch with people as I am, then you'll understand that the longer you go without reaching out, the harder it becomes. So here I am, four (four!) months later, crawling back to you with my tail between my legs. If I have to beg you to take me in, so help me I will do it. The surprising and wonderful thing is, however, that some of you have asked me to return to this place. To begin filling, once again, this void I've left. And that, as hard as I tried, was impossible to ignore.

I've wondered whether blogs, like dairy, have an expiration date. Do they curdle and go bad if left untouched for too long? Or is a blog more like an old piece of clothing? Something that you used to adore and wear every day, but then suddenly couldn't stand the sight of, discarding it on the floor of your closet in a sad, crumpled heap.

This has been my view of le petite blog over the last few months. A sad crumpled heap that I never wanted anyone to see again. I started shopping around to replace it, trying on generic titles and begging web designer friends for a free makeover. I hated "toes over the edge" -- so sappy, I thought. So easy to forget.

But then my sister talked me off the edge, so to speak. Own it, she said. Nurture it and be kind and it will grow into something all its own. So I've picked it up and dusted it off just in time for spring. Maybe it was hibernating for winter? Like a bear? I wonder how many metaphors I can throw at you in the form of excuses. If a blog is like a bear, a living breathing beast with a will of its own, then do I get a pass for being lazy and uninspired?

Tell me, beloved readers, that you're still there. Tell me that you'll stick with me as I figure things out and, inevitably, make changes. (Because I am nothing if not fickle.) I promise I'll be here if you will.