yearlong.

Published June 22, 2011 by April Fox

so life has changed considerably since the last time i posted here. other than this morning, i mean, but that doesn’t count.

i moved to a different house. i dyed my hair purple. i went full-time with the writing. i started work on my second book. the last time i really posted anything here, i had just become friends with the cute, scruffy, kind of weird friend-of-some-friends. as i write this, he’s sound asleep in my bed, cuter and weirder than i thought back then, but a little less scruffy. it evens out.

i’m happier now.

our little house is nestled in the elbow crook of two roads, on the edge of the same small town i’ve lived in for years. it has a huge wraparound porch that hugs three sides of the place. when we sit out back we have to pause our conversation while the budweiser trucks lumber past; on the opposite side, the kids draw with chalk and race their bikes up the dead-end street under the watchful eye of two gnarly tim burton trees. the kitchen cabinets are covered in old photographs of the kids and us and other family members; the bathroom looks like it belongs tucked in the back of a dive bar vibrating to the sounds of a dead kennedys cover band; a fat orange cat rests on top of the record player in the library, watching me through one sleepy eye while i work.

did i mention that i’m happier now? happier, i think, than i’ve ever been.

this is a life made of stretching dollars and extension cords; of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at two in the morning, laughing and making plans while the kids sleep soundly two rooms away; of music and light and too much cat hair on the floor. it’s a life where promises are unnecessary; to make them would be ridiculous, like asking your arm to promise to be attached when you wake in the morning. we simply are, without expectations, and still every expectation is met.

so that’s life in the past year, since i posted about something silly my little girl did. she’s still doing silly things, i’m still doing crazy shit like getting stuck in my clothes, and life is still a manic ride full of rants and rage and incredible adrenaline rushes that hit out of nowhere.

i’m glad you’re here. stick around.

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