Poor lonely deserted blog. Does anyone come to see you anymore? Why would they when you have so clearly been abandoned by even your once faithful caretaker? When they can hear the wind whistle past them and see the tumble weeds blowing by sending a chill of loneliness to their core?
Perhaps it is with the same pull that compels one to dare themselves up the creaking slivered steps of a dark and, for reasons long forgotten, abandoned old house to peak in through the slats of a broken shutter; smell the odd, damp, musky odor; and jump at some unknown in the shadows.
Or, perhaps you have even lost that appeal and are looked upon instead with disappointment and a small sense of some loss as one might gaze upon the tattered, thistle and dyer's woad infested remains of what must have once been a well tended garden with pathways, stone benches, climbing roses and delicate small petaled flowers. One might wonder what had become of the clearly once beloved spot, why the stone bird bath now lay cracked on the ground, and who might have long ago sat in the shade of such a quiet and now sadly unappealing spot.
Worst of all, you may now go unnoticed entirely -- a small house that once had children and laughter with in your walls, a fire in the fire place, or a breeze blowing through spring print curtains; a rope swing in the backyard, a mother calling little ones in for bath time and a father hammering a nail in the wall to hang his wife's newly purchased painting. And now, forgotten; surrounded by large buildings, paint faded, left by your loving occupants and viewed simply as a cheap and temporary place to live by your present ones.
Poor poor blog, how could I have dealt with you thusly?
You know I could have only written something this kooky late at night as I pine for my far off husband and should be getting some sleep. All is well and we are well. Far from settled and quite in limbo, but still quite well. Someday soon I will reenter the entertaining world of blogdom.