I have missed writing my blog – over the last few weeks I was too busy, too tired, too houseguests and holidays for my brain to settle anything, and that which was written was hopelessly disjointed. I was like a dehydrated plane crash victim appearing out of the desert, throwing herself into the oasis, and just about drowning from the desperate thirst.
And I was painfully aware that one of my last pre-visitor posts had been a somewhat dubious poem about being homesick. I leave that poem in the ether of the online world because it reflects the poet that I am trying to reconnect to, and also because of the lesson it teaches me. Yes, a little retrospective is good. Look back and remember with a smile, but also know that was on chapter in the book. You don’t read a book halfway through, and then stop and say “no, I prefer how it was at the end of chapter 3. Let’s just stay there.”
It was alright to look back, but I looked back too long, and soon I was not looking for the foundation of who I am today, but rather, how my life today is not how I had planned it to be. The dreams I had then may remain unfulfilled; but the passions I had then, I am able to explore now.
Nobody gains anything from wishful thinking – wanting what you can’t have, wishing for the life you chose not to live. It’s a different kind of coveting, and it only steals from you, from your today, and your tomorrow. You can’t move forward to pursue today’s dreams, express the opportunities of today’s passion, if you’re looking over your shoulder, wishing to be in a place that doesn’t exist anymore.
Besides, I realised, the me is still the same, just more grown up. And the relationships I thought were missing? They just look different. They have barbeques instead of braai’s (the difference is a post for another time). The jokes are different, but the laughter fills my soul just the same.
And, after all that, I am a writer. And that is all I ever wanted to be.