This is an everything blog.
A little bit of sugar, a little bit of spice.
And, right now—like Forest and his many park-bench dwellers—you (the reader) and me (the writer) just never know what we’re going to get from this place, do we?
But Brooke, I hear you say. You are the writer. Hold the wheel. Steer.
Just take us to a place we know, a place we love.
A place we choose.
You may have already met the many versions of writerly me—especially if you’ve followed along on my Sunny Mummy journey—and if so, you may be wondering which me will be the captain of this particular ship, at any given blog post.
Will it be the very serious me; the scholar and the thinker, the champion of all things books and arts and creativity?
Will it be the dreamer, the romantic, the philosopher? The Mum?
Or will it be me of the adorably nuts kind; me who wishes the world was made of chocolate, and cherry-red wine, me who thinks she’s way funnier than she actually is. (And yes. The latter is the captain of this particular blog post. Sorry about that.)
What will the next post be? A photo blog: short, sweet and poignant? Or will it be wordy and slow, important and true?
This is my confession.
I don’t know.
All I can say about this little land of words is that it is, and always will be, a place for anyone who finds it, a place for anyone who needs it. A place that changes and moves, because life changes.
And that’s what I want for this space.
With this confession lies an apology of the sincerest kind. Sometimes you will be lost here, wishing for direction, wishing for routine wrapped in a neatly labeled box.
This place will give you all of the things, sometimes. And none of them sometimes, too. What exactly it will give you, I can’t be sure.
What I can be sure of is this.
My heart lives in this place.
And where my heart lives, I live.
All of me.
All of you, too.