Well, a word of explanation.

First, when I was eight, I asked Santa for a typewriter and a filing cabinet.  To write and to keep.  I believe this blog is a natural outgrowth of that same thirty-year-old wish.

And second, about the blog's title and the accompanying quote that comes from Nicole Kraus's book The History of Love:

When David read it he said, "What does that mean?"

(This is the line that comes up in nearly every conversation we have.)

"It's a metaphor.  For how I feel about my life."

"A metaphor?  Wait.  What?  I don't get it."

And there's the rub. 

Once upon a time a metaphorist married a literalist.  And we had this amazing life together, made some brilliant and gorgeous babies, and then spent a few thousand days together.  But even with all that, I have never really been able to say with my tongue and my teeth and my lips what all of this magic in our life really means to my heart and my head and my spirit.

This blog (metaphors and all) is my attempt to do that.

To say the truths about love that I don't even know yet.

What do those lines mean?  To me they mean something about how when you love and live with other people, you're all the time scratching and poking and knocking and choosing the wrong sentences.  

But given the time and the space, I can answer those two regrets.  Here.

Choose the right sentences.  (For once.)  Say what I really mean.  (For another.)  And write it all down.

(For the record.)

Cast of Characters

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This blog features me and my brain...which includes (but is not limited to) "Reasonable-Inside-Me" (RIM), "Crazy-Inside-Me" (CIM),  and "Fetal-Position-Me" (FPM),

But mostly it is about the lovelies I live with:

David, my heart

Caleb, my pride

Olivia, my hope

Savannah, my grace

Ethan, my joy 

The other day David said to me, "We have a good life you know."

I looked at him and rolled my eyes and reminded him of all the mistakes we've made along the way.

The list was long.  He waited.

"Ya, and it's still a really good life."

He's right.  Here we are.  Mistakes and all.  Scratches and wrong sentences and big, blown opportunities and everything.  It's still a good life. 

Let me prove it to you.