14 Years, Going on 40.

14 years ago. 

It was 14 years ago that I last posted on my Blogger blog. 

Blogging was the life, in the internet social landscape of the early 2000s. Especially being homeschooled and limited in exposure to diverse social circles. Blogging with fellow homeschoolers, and discovering the world at large, seemed endless, and exciting. 

Making new blogs was the height of online publishing excitement. Changing your identity, the design of the blog, and the feel of something new. There were blogs hosted by my college, free blogs from web hosting sites, Blogger blogs, and the king of the blogosphere: Xanga. Most of my blogs are long gone, along with the time capsule of friendships they represented. 

It still lives, you know. Blogging. 

Not the followers of the old days, of course. Like all things on the internet, blogging has morphed into a monster of commercial impetus. Lifestyle blogs. Technical blogs. Political blogs. They're all still there.

It's just that its harder to find the little people. The individuals of yesterday, that journaled their whole life online, and keep each other's company in a flurry of likes and comments to posts.  

There's a wistful nostalgia on these back pages of the vintage internet. 

I miss it. 

I miss the newness. I miss the excitement of discovery. I miss ... them. All of them. 

So many married. So many careers and happy chapters. Haven't spoken to so many of them in ages. 

In just a few hours, I will be 40 years old. 

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

I feel. So many things.

Lost.
Single.
Lonely.
Childless.
Without a course. 
What was it all for.
Time wasted.
Friendships. Fondly remembered. Now a faded picture in my memory. 

I took a walk this evening. Out by the garden on the berm. I took pictures of the sunset in the cold, crisp air. And remembered. So many years have I spend in this nook on the hill. 

This year, I'm endeavoring to remember that my life could be someone else's dream. To treasure the small things. To be mindful. To have empathy. To slow down. 

To be grateful. 

I will not deceive myself that I will revive this blog and resurrect its glory days. Merely, that when I'm homesick, I will come here once in a while, and ponder. 

An empty home on the internet. 

I'm grateful. For so many things.

Tonight, however, my heart is heavy. I feel so alone.