With great trepidation, I enter. Gesticulations begin, wiping madly at the webs, the dust clouds. It is easier to just keep the door shut, or to open it briefly only to tuck away another box. It is much harder to enter. To really evaluate what is in there, tucked behind the boxes large and small. And yet, whether or not the door stays shut, I keep tripping over everything in it.
A new year, resolutions, new beginnings. Every year, I find myself evaluating where I have been and where I am going. I open a box or two. I may purge some things. Tidy up a little, try to pretty up the package with a bow. Other boxes are too much to deal with. I close the lid, hide them in the back of the pile, and yet every year, they are there. Back in the front, right where I can see them, and once again, I find myself flat on my face. Tripped up again.
This year, I am hoping things will be different. I’ve been quiet on here. I’m going through boxes. Some are distracting me from writing, others inspire. The process of de-cluttering can be painful, cathartic, and writing is a way to process.
But how much is too much? Where am I going with this? What will the new year bring for this blog? I don’t know. Simple tasting notes become boring to write. But this began as a wine blog. Too much introspection may scare off those who tuned in for the wine, but the writing is much more meaningful to me.
One of the best things about getting older is that I feel like I am not only continuing to find my voice, I am less afraid of using it. I am getting in my own way less and less. I am starting to deal with those boxes once and for all.
So, if you open your email and find a post has nothing to do with wine, bear with me. If you need to tune out, feel free. If you don’t hear from me, be patient. I’m going through my closet. And I’m expecting to find some treasures.