Jazz music filters from my speakers as I pour a single glass of Malbec. I scoop up a cracker topped with cheese and pickles and plop into my husband’s recliner. What’s a girl to do when her girlfriend calls at the last minute to cancel your chat-fest but it’s only 5pm and the wine is already decanted?
As I pick up another cracker, I glimpse my daily journal peeking out from under a pile of newspapers. Ugh. I am suppose to write a blog post for my friend. I grab the journal and my glass and sit at the dining room table. I put pen to paper and pause...I better bring the appetizers and wine over to the table.
Washing down another cracker with my wine, I once again begin to write.
So, here I am hoping to write a story for a blog. And the question arises…What exactly is a blog? Are we all just putting words on paper hoping to inspire someone out there in the dark? Are we trying to give light to someone’s darkest day? Will we convince some desperate soul to come down from the ledge? Or is it really about us purging our souls?
That paragraph takes a lot of thinking. And apparently a lot of wine. I pour myself another glass and sit back in my chair as I sip and ponder.
Why do we write? Why do some of us empty our hearts and souls at day’s end in a personal journal? Should these most intimate thoughts be shared with the unknown masses or is it best to keep them locked away? To protect the innocent, of course. And probably ourselves. Will the readers with no faces respect and cherish the emptying of our guts or will they cast them aside and laugh at our insecurities and failings?
I’m not so sure how this is going. Do I have things to hide? Am I ashamed of what I write, of who I am? The crackers aren't cutting it, either. I stand up and stretch, then rummage through my pantry. Nothing there. But, I know there’s Rocky Road ice cream in the freezer. With spoon and carton in hand, I return to the table.
Is a blog the Sweet and Low substitute for the lack of an intimate relationship to share one’s deepest thoughts? Is the choice of Rocky Road ice cream indicative of things to come? Am I sounding too much like Carrie Bradshaw?
Whatever one’s reason to share their most personal feelings with the internet world, let’s please understand that we need to be kind, compassionate, and respectful of each other, and of yourself, as we travel through this dark journey of finding those brave enough to reach out and embrace the unknown.
I pour the final drops of wine from the decanter. Gosh, that was a small bottle. Only three glasses. Wow. Won’t buy that Malbec again. I get back into writing, but first have to see where I left off.
Reach out and embrace the unknown. Take a deep breath, cross our fingers and toes, and step over that invisible line into the uncomfortable zone.
Whatever you decide to share, make sure you have a glass of your favorite vino by your side. The fruit of the vine makes everything more palatable and Rocky Road doesn’t hurt either.
Kyle Ann Robertson
Retired, mother of four, grandmother of two, dog lover, yoga attempter, avid writer and wine drinker!