i write tonight with a lot of love and gratitude for this blog and what it has given me over the years.
i started it back in 2008 the day my grandfather, a quintessential storyteller, passed away. in his death, i had to face the fact that his were stories i would never forget nor ever be in the power to reproduce. loosing him and all the content of his nearly century-long life drove me to this effort of cultivating my own stories. the writing and purpose evolved over the years, feeding a joy i had in sculpting and framing words, preserving vivid moments of my life in both poems and prose.
some of the early pieces are rough, some are just rubbish, but each and every one were necessary explorations, stepping stones i skipped along to get to the pieces i discovered later. and all the while i was unconsciously developing a deep wealth of knowledge about the correlation between the textures of my life and my words.
i write tonight after struggling a lot these past several years to find where all my words have gone. sure, i wrote a piece or two, a few of my favorites even, but the words were pulled out of me with an effort i never needed before. and a few projects elsewhere in my life have been waiting patiently to be given words for just as long.
since the fall, i have been slowly coming to terms with the fact that this blog was done, and so this will be my last post here – a small moment of pause to say thank you to all the stories i collected, all those hours i labored, and all the readers who stopped by for however long to join me. the words you shared with me along the way meant as much to me as the ones i found for myself. thank you.
i am making a fresh start here.