It’s the evening of the Autumn Equinox, one of my favorite days of the year; A close second to my birthday, I must admit. Both occasions feel more ceremonial than celebratory- I welcome them as opportunities of deep reflection. Tonight, I contemplate this shift to the Fall season and ponder that we have already moved through two of Nature’s periodic landscapes, Spring & Summer. Before the year’s end, this season serves as a checkpoint for me. Am I pleased with my time spent in the rearview? Did I make progress on the goals and dreams that I set for myself at the year’s onset? As we move into darker, shorter days and the opportunity for nourishment and a slower speed presents itself, what do I intend to focus on? What needs attention?

These are my meditations tonight, and they’ve surprisingly led me here: Out of the woodwork.

Hello, old friend.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve surveyed this space- I feel like I am standing in the doorway of an old, familiar yet abandoned home. Tears prick my eyes as a feeling of longing creeps into the pores of my skin. I close my lids momentarily, take a deep breath. The sights, the sounds:, It’s all still here.

A blinking cursor on a beautiful blanket of white.

A font, always switched to Cambria. Justified alignment.

Wide screens that illuminate the darkness, showcasing herbal tea steam swirls and an instrumental playlist shuffling on a nearby device. Explosions in the Sky.

My surroundings feel like home, indeed. But what about me?

My last entry was marked in early 2021. Another sigh.

I wiggle my toes in my slippers- the fur ones with “Mama Bear” embossed on each foot. I glance down at the fleshiness of my thighs in black leggings, an oversized sweater. I feel tired. I know that I look tired. My husband is asleep upstairs and received an “I love you,” text tonight once I realized that I wanted to linger longer, ached to open my laptop and try a new page on for size, knowing that my mornings no longer include the word “snooze.”

Yes, my last excerpt was dated approximately two months before I learned that I was pregnant. I am now a mother to an incredible 21-month old boy. The world was so different then- I was so different then. We were in the height of a global pandemic and although the world was turning inward, I was flourishing in health, wealth, and happiness. My career had transformed as my company created a cutting-edge technology for virtual meetings, my name in the forefront of it all. More time at home allowed me to manage my health and was active in its maintenance. My husband and I played board games, went camping, took scenic drives, reveled in simple pleasures with close family members and friends. My cup was full. And when we returned home from our 5-year wedding anniversary getaway in the Blue Ridge Mountains and I saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test, I knew that the best version of myself was bringing new life into this world.

If I continue with this metaphorical notion of standing in a long-forgotten entryway tonight, I’m quite stunned at the articles that surround me in the grand hall. So many books- well read, reviewed, and reflected on. (Who has time for that anymore?) Framed photos of faraway places. Scrap papers of poetry stuffed in a dusty old briefcase, overflowing and scattered on the floor. ( With concentration, I can make out the signature typewriter font.) I was connecting with people in this world, through my prose and my posts- although not a large audience, my door was open for others to come in and take a look around. It was my dream to have a full house, a close community of like-minded, kindred spirits in fellowship. My doormat so-to-speak (my website and social media spaces) proclaimed my mission of living out loud. Putting the “extra” in the ordinary. Making the mundane my masterpiece. I wanted to add punctuation to every sentence of my story, and wanted to inspire others to do the same.

But then I had my son. And although it has felt like my own well-being has been put on “pause” for a bit, the home -my real home- is in such stark contrast to the space I am slipping into as I revisit my former life.

The *depth.*

The *richness.*

The *magic.*

It’s so much more incredible than anything that I have ever experienced before.

It’s everything.

Let me sit down… and tell you about it.