I suppose it was natural, this restless feeling. I’d been searching through family photos, compiling a genealogy of my father’s family all summer long and as much as I continued to enjoy working on my mighty Irish epic, other stories needed to be told.
I shuffled outside my site, one that had grown more comfortable with each passing day. Look, I thought with joy, another follower, another comment! With each post, Down the Mountain Road took on life.
Darkness quickly enveloped me, but I wasn’t afraid; I’d already explored this process. Setting up a site was easy, it was bringing others to read that would be difficult. I chose this space with care, set up the theme to reflect a simpler time. These stories were personal – they’d reflect my family’s history in rural Vermont.
I shifted boxes around to form walls and moved in an old sideboard to hold some mismatched tea cups. A large hooked rug – one worn from generations of use – would add comfort and cover the concrete floor. I brought in chairs – as many as could fit- in hopes that others would feel comfortable and would want to sit down and stay a while.
Then I got to work writing Letters to Rosa.
Each post flew from my keyboard, each one was published without fear. These were my stories, I lived them; I had to trust that they would be received in the spirit they were told – sad at times and funny, but always with honesty to honor my family’s memories.
Imagine my delight when people started dropping by. A quick nod, a simple like, maybe a comment or two; I started noticing Rosa was attracting regulars and smiled. With each visitor, the space began to glow. A lovely comment touched me and added color – like a beautiful vignette I could hang on my wall. Another follower, one who would come back often, and I noticed a new mug sitting on the sideboard- ah, Teresa from bellybuttonblues had settled in! Each time I checked, I found mementos from other bloggers – a warm blanket from Liz at thekovies.com, a knitted shawl from Paulineknits in Ireland; a beeswax candle from Lynne at freepennypress and a cozy armchair from Eunice at livin and lovin.
Others would come and for each one, I’d cherish the visit. Denise at justasIam added a beautiful lamp and Ashi Akira, a wonderful Japanese poet, brought a stack of delightful verse.
Every one of you have added something special to Rosa – you’ve taken a place in an abandoned warehouse and helped me create a home and for that I am grateful.
So, please, pull up a chair – or add one of your own. Leave a comment, a quick “hello”. I’ll cherish the time we have, I promise.
And thanks for stopping by.
(I’d like to invite you to visit letters to Rosa – simply click on the lovely sepia photo on the sidebar. I’d love to hear from you!)