I love it when I blog every day. There’s something fulfilling about putting my thoughts down in cyber space. It’s not truly fulfilling a need to say hello world, here I am… but it’s close. Documenting my life, however mundane tickles this part of me that likes to feel important.

When people say to me, you haven’t blogged in forever I glow. They checked! They care enough about me that moseyed on over to my niche in the world wide web and poked their head in to see what I was up to. And then the weight of expectation comes crashing down on my shoulders. The more you blog, the more people expect you to blog.

Kansas City, Missouri… early 2006. I was sitting in the break room at work, glad to be away from the sink of jello and chicken… most likely picking at a small container of fried okra. Mmm, I miss fried okra… I loved that part of my job at the deli, taking home little containers of okra, fried chicken livers, and gizzards. My Grandma and I would feast on it as we sat by side at our respective computers. Ahhh, back to the actual story!

So I was sitting down, fried okra in one hand, a shiny black corded phone in the other talking to my Dad. He’d recently commented on my blog, and during the course of my phone call he told me “I miss you, and while I don’t always understand what you’re trying to say with that online journal, it makes me feel closer to you. So why didn’t you blog today?”…

Obviously I’m paraphrasing, because unless we were arguing or discussing the insane loss of the Seahawks to the Steelers during Superbowl XL, it wasn’t often our conversations lasted long, especially on the phone.

In fact, most often then went like this…

Me: Hi Daddy.
Him: Hi Rachie, let me find your Mom.
Me: Hi Mom, tell Dad I love him.

I always find myself wondering what our last words to each other were. It bugs the hell out of me that I can’t remember. The thought that it could very possibly Hi Daddy and nothing more eats away at my soul. Yesterday as we were coming home from our favorite swimming hole a song came on the radio that made my throat choke up. Becky and Liam were with us in the backseat, and I have to give props to Chris who didn’t say a thing about the tears both of us suddenly started to have running down our cheeks.

It was like synchronized crying. My chest swelled every time I hear Becky sob, my own tears rained down harder. Her hand was on my shoulder, fingers so small and warm compared to my freezing ones… we turned the radio off after Brad Paisley and Dolly Parton stopped warbling together, and we laughed. It was one of those moments… we had so many of them right after Dad died.

I resolved then and there, for what must be the millionth time in the past 3 years that my last words to the people I loved were going to be something I could remember. Words of love, power, and meaning. Or at least minor importance. Don’t get me wrong, there will still be meaningless conversation and trivial arguments… but I’ll work harder to make them something I can remember.

Blogging is simply a one sided conversation, isn’t it? At least to start. It’s my way of saying hello, I’m alive and well. You may not get it, or even care… but at least you’re here. Witnessing what could be my last ramble. It’s important to me, and I’ve got to give that more credence. No more whining about how I don’t have time or inspiration… it’s all excuses.

So here’s Day 1 of Forever.