Day 2 of 30 days of blogging challenge and I already woke up wondering what the heck I was going to write about.
So I am asking myself what is this blog about? Embroidery? Creativity? Love of pretty and colorful design? Yes, all this, but this is not, has never been and can never be the only thing this is about. This is not what comes easy to me when writing.
I love discussing the deep and the hidden, the emotions, the challenges and what makes life so complicated, simple and wonderful all at once, and very randomly most of the time.
So no, I am not inspired today to discuss “how much Pink is my current favorite color having replaced Turquoise”. Nor do I want to share how to do a Stem Stitch or how to boost your creativity when you feel the lack of inspiration.
I will though, and I will happily do, but not today. And this will never be the only thing I will want to write about because for this blog to live and strive I will need to talk about what is important to me and that is all of the above.
The reason I stopped pouring my heart and head out with my previous blog was because I needed to reassess how to do it respectfully of my family’s privacy since my previous blog had them at the heart. That reached its limits and one day felt wrong so I had to stop. So I am a little bit in blog rehab. I am re-learning how to write without exposing too much of them, yet being able to be true to myself, honest and raw whenever I feel the need to.
This is the reason why I am giving myself this 30 day challenge and also the reason why today I want to talk about how I freaking miss France at the moment! Not just its cheeses and fresh baguettes, but all of its parts that make me who I am today.
I actually blame it on my physiotherapist who spent my whole session quizzing me about France, the best places to go and the best things to do. It just started making me think about it all and I caught myself revisiting memories I had forgotten. I felt the warmth of the Summer breeze sitting at a terrace drinking a cold Cacolac (the best cold chocolate drink ever!). I smelled the smells, I heard the familiar noises like the loud bang the very heavy front door of my mum’s house makes. So many other things that felt so far, yet so so close…
There is that song “Lettre a France” written by a French singer Michel Polnareff who had to leave France, and move to California in the 70’s because of some dodgy tax stories. I remember listening to it when I was younger and it had no other meaning to me than being a love song. What I hadn’t realised until much later is that it was a love song for the country he couldn’t go back to and that he was missing. You can read the full translation of the lyrics here.
Every now and then I play it really loud and give a very heartfelt rendition in my lounge, in a very Bridget Jones kind of way. Sometimes I even cry through it.
But then I remember that I am lucky. Lucky to have the opportunity to live somewhere else, to discover new places, new people and cultures and I am proud. Proud to add another layer to who I am. To create another puzzle.
But Gosh, it is painful at times!