My silence on this blog all began with serious back pain a few months ago. I didn’t want to write/whine about it. Thrice weekly trips to the physiotherapist and the all-encompassing entropy of being at home alone did not suit my already too reflective self, and instead of writing, I wandered aimlessly through well-worn paths of depression and self-pity.
A series of unfortunate and highly blogable events followed swiftly, jolting me back into the healing properties of human company: a bravely attended baby shower, a bug that sent me to the hospital, the joys of helping my helpmate recover from the same bug the following week, my mother’s successful surgery and encouraging recovery, a poignant garden encounter, two birthdays for my favorite boys, and a deep conversation all sit heavily in my drafts folder, waiting for their writerly transformations.
But all of that will have to wait, for in a few days, I’ll be in England. Right now, my brain is aflutter with notes and nitpicks: packing, cleaning, stowing away, gift wrapping, ticket printing, fridge emptying and dress choosing make the kinds of delicious ponderings that often lead me to this page near impossible.
And the material keeps piling up: from train travel to notorious neighbourhoods to shameless Shakespeare tourism, I hope to fill a notebook with even more drafts of potential posts.
So welcome back to this little apartment of thought in the wide neighbourhood of the internet. Three weeks from now, I’ll be back in town, rumpled and full of experiences, and the Everafters might just be a place you’d like to stop by for a story and a cup of tea.