I started blogging over a year ago
because my family encouraged
me to write.
I've got stacks of poetry,
half written short stories-
and personal notations
that are housed in
wilted cardboard boxes
and stuffed amid
piles of dog-eared keepsakes.
At least on the computer
they have a home
and stay organized.
But what started as a way
to speak my mind,
Blogging soon became
a way to speak my heart.
I found emotions that
were stifled by every day pressure.
Love that was overflowing,
depression that was suffocating...
joy that was unstoppable.
It didn't matter that anyone
read them-
just that I wrote them.
But then, there were my sisters
who would faithfully
read my daily ramblings
and always comment kindly.
It made me persevere
on days when I just wanted
to go back to bed
or simply do nothing.
Soon family came aboard-
my brothers and nieces
and in laws
and aunts.
And sometimes my kids.
Then, as if by magic,
I started making friends.
Blogging friends-
modern style pen pals, if you will.
Margaret, Mrs.C., Cathy, Gail,
Anne, M.A. Fat Woman, Christy,
Deborah, Teena, Barb,
and all the others that
I know are there,
but have never heard from.
You don't know how
wonderful your comments are!
They validate the hours of
pecking on the keyboard
with two fingers
at five a.m.
You are the reason I look,
and see, and smell, and feel
and taste and touch-
so that my observations
will somehow plant a new
idea for a blog post.
Today I've been thinking
about the little
long-nosed guy named Kilroy.
He shows up on all sorts of things!
Brick walls, sidewalks, train cars,
city streets, and abandoned houses.
Kilroy is everybody
and nobody.
He's anonymous.
He's universal.
He's the silent watcher
that leaves only
his trademark signature.
Most Kilroy's want to
protect their identity.
They're shy,
or afraid,
or private people.
They don't know what to say
or how to act,
but they want their presence known.
Are you a Kilroy?
I think it would be fun
if all the Kilroy's out there
that read my blog
would just sign in anonymously
and leave a comment
that simply says:
"Kilroy was here."
I'd love to see how this
experiment pans out.
But, no matter.
I will write.
I will continue to write.
I will write forever.
Because
my heart
never stops speaking.
