Fourteen years ago I started this blog to pursue my “adventures in genealogy.” But I can’t rightly call this my 14thblogiversary, because I haven’t posted in the last four years. In some ways, those years feel like a very long time, equivalent to the four years I spent in high school. In other ways, it was just yesterday, equivalent to watching my nieces and nephews go from infant to 4-year-old in the blink of a eye.
If you would have asked me this week about that last post, I’d have sworn that I purposely “ended” the blog on its tenth anniversary. But when I read that post today, there are no signs of an end and I was looking forward to the next ten years. Sometime later that month, or maybe later that year, I decided that it stopped being fun. Even though I was far from finished with my family history research, I was content to be finished with blogging about it. I also had other hobbies and responsibilities to fill my time.
Today I find it ironic that the graphic I used for that post four years ago was that of a house’s front door, because all week as I pondered coming back here to write, the image that came to mind was that of an old house. You know, the sort of place you remember like your grandparents’ house that you used to visit, or that favorite aunt’s, or even your own childhood home. Once you return to these places after a long absence, it feels strange – yet so familiar. It feels like home.
I thought I closed the blogging door forever, but apparently the light was left on here and it’s still burning. Like those old houses of our relatives, it’s a bit dusty here and in need of some work. Some things, like links, are broken and need to be fixed. Other things, like information, are outdated, like finding an old phone book in Grandma’s house that still used prefix exchanges. I’m sure there’s a junk drawer where I can still find something useful to help me. I think there is a jigsaw puzzle left on the dining room table with some pieces missing – maybe one of you can help me solve it.
While I throw open some windows to let fresh air in and dust off the furniture, pull up a chair on the porch and have something to drink. I have a few stories left to tell – and they’re all true.