Traveling Light….With Windchimes

So why “bogged down?” It’s not that I’m a depressive person, or morose, or sad, although recent events have made me more so. I guess I feel like stuff inside me is bogging me down, and this is the place to relieve that. So I’m lighter, less heavy. Like Kundera’s “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” I’d much rather live my life light than heavy.

Why do people have blogs anyway? To “dump” somewhere? Is it vanity? Does it matter? I’m sure this question has been posed and pondered way before, and much better than I’m trying to do right now.

I started this blog because of the Harveys. To remember them, to write about them so that others could know them too. To help myself and my sadness. I call myself a writer, but ironically, I haven’t written anything in years. Wouldn’t it be, I dunno, neat, if I started writing regularly again because of something so horrific, so tragic, so awful. Okay, neat isn’t the word, but I know Bryan and Kathryn both would give me a big hug if they knew (and they do) that I was writing again because of this awful, unreal situation. Unreal because I still can’t get my mind around it. I’m trying, though, I’m trying. They want us all to try.

I read a wonderful tribute to the Harveys here at “Three Wheels” by Triscula. Very touching, very positive. I hadn’t taken my tree down yet either, it didn’t seem right somehow. But after reading this, I did.

This blog was so positive in fact it made me want to change my title, from “bogged down”. Hey, you create your own reality, right? Maybe I should call it “Wall of Light” or something more ethereal. Eh, who knows. I can’t help feel that the blog is in fact a repository of sorts, not a dumping ground really, but a place to store stuff so it’s not crawling around and around in my craw for years and years. I can put is somewhere safe, like a photograph in an album, instead of carrying it around with me. Like I said I want to travel light. So whenever I’m “bogged down” here I will come.

Style Weekly did some wonderful tributes as well, especially this one by Elizabeth Cogar. It made me laugh through my tears because I can remember telling Kathryn things I was looking for, 50’s style furniture and lamps, especially lamps! She would take out her little notebook and write down yet another item on the page with my name. I had totally forgotten this about her. Now my house is full of the lamps she found, topped with the beautifully crafted shades that were made to my specifications. I can’t remember who made these, but wherever you are, thank you. I love them.

I still feel very homesick. It was blustery again here yesterday, the wind blowing incessantly. It made my windchimes go like mad, and I had a sudden thought. I wonder if the Harvey house had windchimes. If so, are they still there? I think when I go back I’ll hang one. One that resonates like Kathryn’s laugh. Full of depth, rolling, infectious. Hey, if that’s too dorky for you, I don’t care. Her laugh rocked, and I want people to remember it.

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