John and I are discussing over instant messenger the offer I’ve just had from a publisher to turn this blog into a book.
In the light of the offer I’ve been reading back over the blog posts from when I first started blogging almost five years ago to the day now. I’ve been laughing over some, cringing over others, frowning at who I was at some moments in time, wondering whether it would make in any way a good book.
John asked me how I felt about the old me that wrote the earlier posts. It was an interesting question.
This is what I typed in response:
I feel much less judgemental now. More centred.
Much more aware of my privilege.
More full of gratitude.
I feel older I guess.
Also very grateful that Alula is no longer a toddler.
Man. Those were dark, dark days.
I’m still probably way too judgemental.
Probably not that centred at all (I definitely wasn’t this morning when I stood on the balcony and screamed at the tile cutter).
I’m definitely more full of gratitude though. I’m not even sure five years ago I even paused to consider the meaning of the word, but here it’s become a daily practice, as close to meditation as I’ll probably get.
I’m definitely older and sun damage has probably aged me way beyond my years but I don’t care. I love those lines around my eyes. They’ll always remind me of the magical time we spent here.
I’m so much calmer and less crazy now I don’t have a possessed toddler on my hands. Reading those old posts I almost didn’t recognise the child she was from who she is today; a beautiful joy who honestly lights up our lives.
I wonder if I would feel the same if I’d stayed in England, if I would be the same person, if Alula would be the same child she is today. No way to tell, but I think not.
This has been a journey in so many ways.