A letter to my blog ...

Dear Blog,

I hear your cries just as my little dog Terry used to wail when I would leave home for work oh so many years ago. It's a thin, high pitched yowl as if to say, "Dooooon't leave me!" As I pull out of the driveway and onto the streets leading to those huge, bustling, scary highways, I hear your cry. Dear sweet blog. I think about you many times a day, but you would never know that because it is through behaviors and actions that show us we are loved, not words and certainly not with thoughts. It does not help you that I tell you, "Bloggie, I miss you and think about you." Terry would give the same yelps and yowls when I would return to share his yearning and longing, his pain at having been left alone for so long. I would hold him in my arms and he would lick my face and hands. "There, there, " I would say, and then show him I loved him by taking him for a walk, strongly and clearly stroking and patting him and giving him his favorite cottage cheese and egg.

As I switch on the computer and click to you, little blog, I see your face light up and look straight at me as if to say, "Now will you write something ... now will you click over at the blog roll and greet your blogger buddies? Now, wow, how, mow, gow?" And then click again and off I run to do a hundred other things. You see, blog, when a person goes out to work the other stuff gets pushed aside. For example, I have to spend a little time throwing toy mice in and out of Molly and Ada's favorite hiding place, or drag their favorite string up the wooden post that T created for them. I have to feed and water the plants, rake the yard, sweep the sidewalk, clean the bathrooms, make the bed, do the laundry, cycle to the supermarket, greet the neighbors, fill the feeders, or answer old e-mails. Thank goodness I don't have to cook! T likes to do that and sometimes while he does I can return to you, Dear Blog.

And return to you I do. Just not as much as I used to. I still love and enjoy stroking you, and looking deeply into your shining eyes. We will find a new way to live together, my dear blog friend. It takes a little while to get used to changes in our system and honestly, blog, I do so enjoy traveling along the highway watching the slow way leaves begin to turn down here in Philly. I love sharing knowledge and life with students and enjoy the feeling of daily greeting my office. Does that not make you a little bit happy for me? Or are you still hurting too badly with those feelings of neglect and loneliness?

Don't be sad, Bloggie dear. I am still close by and care for you as much as ever. We will learn a new modus vivendi and you will not need to yowl in anguish as much as the days and weeks go by. Hang in there and trust me a bit. I have not left you, it just seems that way.

One last thing, Blog. Did you know that I am grateful for you? Well, yes I am. When I come home from work tired and a little bit anxious from the newness of it all, there you always are. Constant, steadfast and stable. As I click you on I feel a sense of relief - a homecoming - as if to a very accepting and unconditionally loving family. Your give me great gifts, dear old Blog, little blogster, sweet shining bloggie. So, when you are lonely and missing me, think about that gratitude and those wonderful gifts that you give me, and let it warm the cockles of your cyberness.

Lots and lots of love as I hold you tenderly in my thoughts,

Tamar/Tamarika/Tamar/Tamarika/Tamar/Tamarika ....

Comments

[Jean]

Oh, oh, I see a verve and a fast rhythm and a laughter in your words here that I didn't see before, and how much you thrive on being back at work! I'm glad for you. And glad that you'll still be blogging.

[Tamar]

Jean, I have a twinkle in my eye and it's twinkling at you! That's because of your support and for being there. Am off to the airport to pick up the sissy.

[Winston]

What a novel idea! Blogging a letter to your blog...

Tamar, whatever you're smoking, I want some...

So glad you decided you could handle work AND all of us who listen for the sound of your voice.

[Gemma Grace]

My tail's wagging :) Happy to hear you're happy.

[Tamar]

Winston, it's life in the fifties that I'm smoking ... an amazing time ... wouldn't have missed it for the world! Hey, aren't you doing the same?

Gemma, I love the image!

[Natalie]

Here, on behalf of your bloggie, is a hug. You know I can do this shape-shift thing, so I can turn into your blog, or dog, and show you how appreciated you are.

[Tamar]

Hey, Natalie! I would love to see an illustration of my bloggie and doggie done by YOU! Oh my!

[Fay]

Lovely post, Tamar. Have a great time with sister Sue!

[Tamar]

Hello there, Fay - we were pleased to see you had dropped by!