A year ago, I dipped my toe into the blogosphere. I wrote a few, and 'followed' some. Twenty-three to be precise. Then I flitted off to other things, with nary a thought about blogs for over a year.
My eldest son had a birthday, and I wanted to record the milestone so I logged back in, wrote and posted '18'.
But oooh, shiny! There was my Reading List of 'followed' blogs. Some seemed to have continued posting regularly, some sporadically, and some just not. I can understand that, after all, I haven't posted anything in over a year.
Gleeful Random clicking.
Like popping in to catch up over a cup of tea with old acquaintances.
Hey! How ya been? Haven't caught up with you in ages. What's new?
It just can't be possible.
One year. Twenty-three blogs. Subtract two which are professional, newsletter type blogs. Twenty-one personal blogs.
Lori - is still blogging about the suicide death of her husband.
Lulu - wrote her last blog post about the funeral of her sister. Comments on that post revealed that she had
died shortly afterward.
Jen - is now solo parenting, and I'm hoping like hell that nothing awful happened to her husband.
I'm stunned. I'm appalled. I keep thinking about the snippets of lives that have been shared because of
blogs. I've never even met these people. Their writing has made them real, and is the reason I feel like
I've been hit with a sledgehammer.
I'm hoping that the other bloggers who have stopped posting have done so because their lives have become
fuller away from their blog, or that they've taken up crochet instead. (Not looking at you here, Ro).
I'm grateful that my family and I are still alive. Crazy, frustrating, battling. Still here.
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