In the beginning was the Word… wait, that’s a different story. In my story, the beginning was a lot messier. My beginning began, like most do, with a birth. I’m a winter baby and my Sister remembers losing her favorite glove that day. My Dad remembers the doctor with his foot up on the table trying to yank me out and my Mom remembers my little red head. It’s funny how some things stay in our collective memories while others fall out and are lost along the way.
But that beginning was quite a while ago and I’ve had many others since then.
I moved to San Diego this fall. I left my best friend, my parents, and a relationship that was falling apart to come to a brand new city where I knew no one. Things that are scary are also kind of liberating. I imagined I would invent a new, better me. Turns out, I was only partly right. I’ve become different, but, in many ways, I’ve retained and rediscovered many of the things that make me more me. Change is like that. Sometimes, when you think things are changing most, that’s when you notice they stay the same.
Beginnings mean endings but endings also mean beginnings. This is the beginning of a blog. I’m hoping to discover something about myself while writing it, but also just to share what is going on in my life. Hopefully, I won’t be so melodramatic in all my posts!
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. I’ve always kind of liked that. I’m not too much for religion, but as far as origin stories go, that’s a good one. Perhaps God is our words, perhaps our words are God. Who knows?
So just to set the record straight I lost a mitten and grandma remembers it better than me...I remember more about the waiting room and the night you came home. Plus the mitten incident sparked more strings between our mittens when grandma knitted them...which is why she remembers it!
ReplyDeleteI love you though, even if I didn't think so for the first ten years or so!