there are houses

Regular old rain has returned. Rhythm and song, off the eaves of a morning now daylight by seven.

Seriously I consider--and I believe I've decided to--let my Facebook account of nearly nine years wane. I will entomb it, set it in stasis, or whatever the procedure is for dis-following and un-fellowshipping with Facebook for, I hope, a few months at least.

It's kind of been like being cast in a TV series. I've had a good run. I'd like to go out while I'm sort of "on top." I saw a friend from church leave her account (she blogs still, as will I), and the idea, which has floated close sometimes for more than a year, came around again.

Facebook is perfect for cousins and old friends, between whom there is history and affection but who have so much else to get to they can't often connect. For love of friendly cousins I will likely return at some point. Starting over has its place.

My kids are far off, but the phone brings them closer. Video chats are possible and sometimes those happen. Victoria and I move deep into conversation at opportune moments. (We forget to update each other on daily details, but that's the way we meander.) Last time, Edmund kept floating close and asking to talk to Grandma. "I want to hug you," he said and hugged the phone. So I hugged mine, too, and then asked him what's outside his window ("there are houses").


Tim and I continue, surprised by it each time, to welcome people under our roof. Westley warms up to them after a few days. The fireplace crackles, heating water for tea. I am no hostess. Our latest visiting friend, who lives in his car but whose car is waiting at a repair shop to be repaired, roasts his vegetables in the kitchen, learns from me about kombucha, and sometimes sweeps the floor. Tim's wall of movies comes in handy.

For now I gaze out my window at bare houses waiting for finch and pollinator to return--and find myself (after some adjustment, to be sure) gratefully sharing and receiving. Out here it's a clunky, crunchy universe. Mostly quiet. And sometimes someone sweeps the floor. Yay.

Comments

Frex said…
You can probably imagine my conflicted feelings on reading this, Deanna!
You are one of my first and always one of my best blog friends, and I worry I won't get to read your occasional essays anymore!
How will you share your writings?
Please e-mail them to me, at least, eh?

On the other hand, as someone who has felt oppressed or just bored with social media and have dumped it myself, I totally applaud anyone who wants to get off it--temporarily or forever.
Just stay in touch somehow, please!
-Fresca
Frex said…
P.S. I love what Edmund said.
For me, blogs are houses too. So, yeah, I get it that sometimes they need to come down.
Or at least get a clean sweep, as you say. :)
deanna said…
I'm sorry, Fresca, that I made it sound like I'll stop blogging! Nope, just leaving Facebook. I hadn't thought about this "house" being social media, too. But I guess it is (one just doesn't really have to be social here). And I posted an intro. on FB which perhaps explained better what I'm up to.

Thanks for the unlooked-for gift of your kind expressions. I dream, at least, of being more active now with reading and writing blog posts. We shall see!
Glad to find your blog, Deanna! Welcome to Facebook-free living. It is beautifully peaceful.