nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Seven months is a long time.

It's been so long since I've written here that I'm not exactly sure where to start.
I've missed my updates, missed having a space that was mine to relate the minutiae of my life. I've also missed the insight that activity provided for me, and the logging of things that worked as a recorder of sorts, a source to look back to.
I'm not sure if I'll be writing again full time but I do plan to write as I feel the need to. There are things, good and bad, that I need to exorcise still. My own brand of therapy, as it is.
One of the people that I never mentioned, in all my writings here, was my oldest son, Brandon. He was a planned ommission. In the beginning, when I first started here, it was because of the situation with his father and our custody issues. In the beginning, it was also easier (and less hurtful for me) to NOT detail all the ups and downs that went with that whole situation. Mainly, though, it was because I didn't want to take a chance that someone (his father or otherwise) might stumble across my space here and use what I'd written against him or against me---very much what happened with ThatCousin.
I guess, in my heart of hearts, Brandon was sacrosanct.
Brandon is thirteen, nearly fourteen as I write this. He moved back in with me at the beginning of fifth grade, nearly three years ago now. He's tall, taller than I am now by half an inch, blonde and blue-eyed just as his brothers are. He wears glasses, little round Harry-Potterish ones that slip down his nose constantly. Bran's studious, very smart and looks the part. He reads voraciously and can be found constantly with a book tucked in his pocket.
I try to think of words to describe him and come up with so many---smart, funny in a wry sort of way, shy at times and overflowing with random bits of trivia. He's an old soul, older than he should be at such a young age and I hate the circumstances that brought that about. He's the teenaged stereotype of the Absentminded Professor. He's had a crush on the same girl for nearly three years and I don't even know if she realizes it.
His room has no resemblance to the disorder I was warned to expect with teenaged boys, a fact that has delighted and surprised me as well as caused me some concern. "Neat" doesn't begin to cover it. What goes on in his mind that makes him want to control his space so severely?
He's a great kid and I am grateful every day, for him and for his brothers.
Brandon's given me his permission to write about him now. He's aware that I've kept a diary and he's comfortable allowing some of his details here. Ironically, it was his sharing of his own paper journal with me that brought about the conversation that instituted this change. It'll be an odd change, but a welcome one. In some ways, NOT writing about him felt wrong, like a lie. A lie of ommission, maybe.
How's that for an update? Seven months without one and straight out the gate,
I'm adding someone new to the mix.
A catharsis, of sorts.
Change sneaks up on us, even when we know it's coming.
Happy Saturday.
N.

7:03 p.m. - 2007-10-27

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