A couple of weeks ago I received a message on Facebook from a friend of mine, one I went to school with from kindergarten all the way through to high school graduation. During that time, we went through varying degrees of closeness, but we were always amicable and friendly. One of the reasons I have enjoyed Facebook (at least some aspects of it) is because it has given me the opportunity to reconnect with people like her.
In her message, she mentioned how much she loves my blog, and that she and her sister read regularly. She said they talk about my family like they're her own. I was immensely flattered by this. I mean, my little family is interesting enough for people to want to read about it? I am still amazed every time I log onto Sitemeter and watch the dots appear on my little world map. I am excited every time I receive comments from friends old and new, and even from strangers (who still feel like friends.)
I read (too) many blogs myself and feel strangely close to these people whom I have never met. I feel reconnected to those with whom I was once close. And I feel enriched and uplifted by the experiences of others, and by the kinship of shared experience. We are all in this together, after all, and if we will buoy one another up, we have a better chance of getting through it in one piece.
Do I comment on those blogs? Usually, I do . . . but not always. Sometimes, I am a lurker. Sometimes, I reeeeallly want to comment, but I can't think of anything worthwhile to say. (You will never catch me writing something just to fill space . . . or just to get on the comment roll.) Sometimes, I am unmoved by what someone has written, and I don't feel like commenting. Sometimes, I'm just catching a quick read while I wait for the pasta to boil and I don't have time to leave a comment.
What I'm saying is: I know you read. And many of you don't comment. And it's totally okay. If I wanted to know about absolutely every person out there who passed through the I'm (not) Crazy Mommy portals, this blog would be closed, and I would have to invite you in. But I don't really care (in a good way) who visits.
Do I like comments? Sure! Who doesn't? Do I need comments to spur me on in my writing pursuits? Absolutely not. My fingers will continue to itch whether you read me or not, whether you like me or hate me or, even worse, are ambivalent. I will still have words swimming around in my head dying to be committed to the (virtual) page long after my last reader has clicked on the close button.
So, comment, or don't comment. Lurk or don't lurk. But I will not be trying to guilt you into leaving your mark on my blog.