Thursday, April 20, 2017

My Comeback



It’s been one year and three months since I last published a post on the blog. When I’ve been gone this long, it’s undoubtedly difficult to get back to it. My biggest hurdle isn’t the lack of stories. That I have plenty. I think the issue is, where do I even begin?

What warrants a comeback?

Is it the time when I decided to go back to work after a five-year hiatus from my regular corporate job? I was fortunate to land a 30-hour-a-week position that allowed me to pick the girls up from school and continue where I left off as Mommy when I dropped them off at school at 7:30 in the morning. To be able to straddle both roles so comfortably - surely there’s much to say on my return to Working Mom status.

Or what about the time when Pickle, my “baby”, graduated from preschool?







Or when she started Kindergarten (WHAT?! HOW?! Wasn’t it not long ago that I blogged about her birth?) the same time that her big sister, the (not so) Little Miss, started Second Grade and turned a whopping eight years old?






I also had plenty of material when we went on vacation to Florida in November to meet our “new family” - aunts, uncles, a great grandmother, and even cousins! - that My Guy never knew he had until that fateful day when a phone call came from the sister of his biological dad, who delivered the shocking news of his passing the day before. Sad as that realization might have been - that My Guy would never know his biological dad - it was also the beginning of a beautiful relationship with a wonderful family.






Or perhaps I should’ve started when the whole world plunged into darkness, dismay, and disbelief the day Hillary Clinton lost to Donald Trump in her bid for the presidency. I can never forget the utter betrayal I felt from the part of America that slowly revealed itself to me over the months as Trump campaigned on false promises and despicable truths. How could they do this? Why would someone vote for that incompetent, narcissistic, misogynistic nightmare of a man-child? I remember shopping at the neighborhood HEB the day after the elections and looking at everyone at the store suspiciously - Did you do this? Was it you? On a day when America decided that you don’t have to be virtuous, or even remotely kind to be a leader, any act of kindness - a guy allowing me to cross the parking lot to my car  - would move me to tears. I went from taking for granted the magnanimity and tolerance that I loved about America to desperately seeking those qualities in anyone, anything so I may eventually restore my faith in a nation that seemed so profoundly lost, so divided.


How about the time when I felt compelled to protest the current administration and joined the Women’s March with my eight-year-old, who asked me what “pussy” meant on the signs she saw around us that day, thanks to the President who had uttered that same word in his repulsive comments about women? There were over 3 million of us in over 600 cities across the world, protesting in solidarity that day, and if I am determined to raise strong, rebel girls who can run the world, not participating was never an option. It was not only our right. It was an imperative.






Like I said, I have plenty of stories. But I didn’t have the right words to encapsulate all the feels. I wavered in my faith in my own ability to capture those events of joy - or despair. Each felt so momentous, so overwhelming because it compelled so much thinking and feeling. And I didn’t think I could do any of it justice with mere words.

But sometimes words are all I have, and they help me make sense of a world that’s not always easy to understand. And I realize that if I keep waiting for the right time, the right words, the BIG things to make my comeback, I may never get back to this at all. And I would miss some of the best parts about living - the little things.

The small, insignificant moments that, when woven together, are truly what shape our lives.

And I want to go back to that.

So here I am, starting over again, not to make a big announcement or make a statement, but to make a small tentative movement towards this next phase of the blog. Or maybe even my life. I don’t quite know where this is heading, but I know that I wake to a brand new day, every day, and I’m grateful for the little big things and the big little things that continue to propel me forward, especially My Guy and my girls.
It’s from this place of gratitude, recognizing the abundance even on days when I feel depleted, that I hope to begin again. Honestly, isn't that as good a start as any?

justine
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