200th Post, Southern Belly. My goodness…

Well, look at all of this.

All of these words, pictures, and the occasional crappy poem.

I feel thankful.
I’ve laid down a lot of pain here.
A few recipes, here and there as well.

Mostly, I am grateful for the role the kitchen has had to play in all of this, but more importantly, the ones who read what I write. I generally always tell people who struggle with what to write for others, to first and foremost, write for yourself.

Many times, as I sit in my brown chair, I have a stream of thoughts that I may feel uncertain about. I lay it all here, in hopes that there might be a response, but at the end of the day, it is a place I can come back to. I can see where I’ve come from and in return, have a tiny glimpse of where I might be going.

Who’s to say, really.

I guess you. Which is why this blog is important to me. Because of you.

And because you’ve given me a place to write and learn; to fight and struggle.

Being Freshly Pressed a couple of times, by the grace and eye of a WordPress.com editor out there who deemed what I had to say was relatable and worthy of a larger audience. Whoever you are out there, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

All I thought I’d ever talk about on here was what kind of salt I use or why I think pears are some of the most beautiful fruit that I get to see on a daily basis.

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I have a lot to be thankful for.
And even as I get that tightening sensation in my throat, telling me that I’ve struck some nerve deep down, I still have to say how thankful I am.

How I am undeserving of the attention, and the grace that has covered my own skin.

My friends, hold on tight. I don’t know what the world is doing right now, but stand firm and listen to your own voice. Write about what hurts. Share a recipe. Hug someone three seconds longer than you usually would.

A heard a friend once say, “Dream for things you’ll never see.”

I cannot begin to tell you how strong and resilient the human can be. It is amazing the great weights we carry, and at the end of the day, feel light as a feather.

If I could send you all fruit baskets, I would.

But I know it’s out of season, really. Also, they are expensive, so this will just have to do it for now.

Until the next time,

take care of yourself,

and cook someone dinner.

and also dessert,

and also, maybe,
do the dishes.

 

-josh

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