I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks.
So, yeah, I’m not doing very well. I think I am officially going to take a blog hiatus and just allow myself to grieve and process and all that stuff.
Last week, just after the funeral, I was convinced that the best thing for me would be to dive right back into “normal” life and keep myself busy. But I see now that’s just not going to work. I need space, and stillness, time in the garden and time within the covers of my trusty notebook, time with F. and time with family and friends and, yes, time alone. Solitude, especially in Nature, has always been essential to my optimum health.
So I’m going to take that time and make that space. I’m sure y’all will understand.
I have managed to answer very few of the lovely comments since just before I got the call about Granddaddy being in the hospital. As late as last night, I was feeling very guilty about that, and I did try to catch up, starting about four posts back. Mostly because I’ve so appreciated your kind and supportive words, and I want to let you know, individually, how much. But when I woke up this morning, I realized I could let you all know here how much it’s meant to me, how touched I am that you care.
Thank you, my virtual friends.
If you want to see me online, I may well be Twittering. Although I am considering taking a hiatus there, too, for now this format seems more doable to me because it requires less effort and involvement on my part. Even so, part of me is campaigning for a full release from online activity, and if I become convinced that this is the correct path for me, my Twitter feed may go dormant for a time, too.
Should you really need an Enchanted Earth fix, don’t forget to stroll through the archives and to enjoy some Soul Food in the sidebar. (Of course, this won’t work for you old-timers who’ve been with me since the beginning. You’ll just have to be patient, I guess.)
I also plan to stop by your blogs and enjoy your words and pictures. It may be a more irregular thing than before, but I’ll still try to keep in touch.
Nonetheless, I am sure that I will miss you all, and I look forward to the day I can get back to my regularly scheduled life. For now, this is my life, and I accept the full and awesome range of it, its beauty and sadness, confusion and splendor, grace and loss, laughter and wonder and pain. I am grateful for each and every milestone in my path, whether joyful or sorrowful — or a complicated mix of both.