I wish I could remember more clearly the moment I decided to begin blogging because I now know that it was a literal turning point in my life. I found my voice, which sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. I let my fingers play at the keys, exploring each little black square to find the precise words as I made my way to that moment when I would hit send. I remember, and I am not ashamed to say it, returning the next day to see if anyone had found me.
There were plenty of days (weeks and months actually) when no one came. I kept writing. Then people did come and one person in particular, at first I knew her as Flutter. She would leave tender sighs and sweet murmurs about the life I was chronicling. Then, as time passed, she would talk about the girls by name, recalling traits of theirs and, in a way, creating a family-like sense of familiarity with Sean and my girls. It was one of my early blogging friendships, and I treasure it. Treasure her.
Flutter, as many of you know, is Christine. Passionate, bitingly sarcastic, wickedly funny and brutally honest. I remember clicking over to her blog and reading her stories, so different from my own. Often times she would write about the past or about a future she hoped to reach. I always seemed to comment with something related to flight, thinking of her moniker, delicate though it was, in terms of strength and possibility.
When I met her face to face I remember thinking that she was the kind of woman who swishes. Stop rolling your eyes Christine, I get to think of you what I will. Her eyes were so wide, and her lashes curled out at the sides as her perfectly painted lips cracked in a wide smile and then her strong voice came out. She gently pushed her hair over her shoulder and the hem of her dress swirled as we walked across the large room. I felt at once protected and emboldened. Also a little intimidated. She was so much more in person that I expected and yet exactly, perfectly Flutter.
Over time her comments on my blog(s) and her posts on her own shifted. Sorrow, fear and anger began to give way to humor and love. She had talked about Clay before, but usually it was in a way to suggest that he supported her. When the beams of comedy came through, I got to know couple of smart asses goofing off and genuinely reveling in each other. It felt so good thinking of Christine in this light-filled life, laughter bouncing off the walls, eventually a sweet hound careening through the house.
Now the day is fast approaching when Christine and Clay will marry. I have no doubt that there will be laughter and tears, golden hues and midnight tones. I won’t be there to tear up as she walks toward him, but I will be here wishing them both the deepest, most contented sighs as they meet their first dawn as a married couple.
Love to you both.
See more love here.