Our last move brought us back to the same neighbourhood we lived in when we were just a young family. In the first few months of living in our current home, I'd often walk down our old street and pause for a moment at our first Waterloo house, somehow (illogically) expecting it to be exactly the same as I remembered it. It startled me at first to notice how the slender stick of a linden tree we had planted in the backyard when Noah was only a baby was suddenly towering, full and green, over the faded boards of the fence we had built years before. Of course, this change was not really sudden; it had happened gradually while we were building our life elsewhere.
I'm sometimes caught off-guard by how much we, too, have grown and changed over these years. There are moments during the hectic, full stage of life we're in now where I look up, expecting (illogically) to still find two curious young boys playing Lego in a heap on the floor by my feet. But the teenaged boys who smile back at me don't play Lego anymore; they're eagerly building futures for themselves, ones that are filled with fascinating ideas and bright promise now that they're almost close enough to touch. It's strange that I feel surprised by all of this growing when it has happened right before my eyes.
We know time is always passing, causing continuous subtle shifts that eventually result in significant changes from how things once were. I suppose it takes an absence of some kind to be able to really see them. I know now, after being elsewhere for awhile in my writing life, that I've grown away from this blog. I kept thinking one day I would come back to it and it would all feel the same, that I'd just pick up writing about our lives and my thoughts again when I had time. But when I stop in here now, I feel more like a nostalgic visitor, peering through windows to catch a glimpse of a place that I loved, and that we all have moved on from.
As the boys have grown older, I've felt less and less that the stories that involve them are mine to tell. I've shifted my writing energy in recent years to focus on one of my earliest loves: children's books. I'm thrilled to have recently signed my first author's contract -- Kids Can Press is publishing a non-fiction book I've written for young people. I feel it's time to say goodbye to this blog, along with the sweet stage of our life that fit within it.
I'm glad for the many joys I've found here since Pocketfuls' beginning: a personal creative outlet and a way to grow in writing and recipe development, the chance to record moments in our family's life, the opportunity to help others, the sense of community that grew from people sharing their own experiences and thoughts in comments. Thank you for coming and reading. Though I won't write in this space any longer, I plan to keep the old posts here. They're a touching (sometimes embarrassing!) reminder of who and where we once were.
I hope people who are now living in the stages we've grown out of might still come and feel at home here.