handstories

Whatever day it is...

    There are days when it feels like the universe is cracking open lives and hearts. 

    A week ago, I was quilting as fast as I could, hoping for a Christmas miracle.  Often thinking of our friends and this precarious journey they are on.  Meditating on and stitching with hope, frantically trying to ward off the opposite.

    I believe in miracles, expect them.  Sometimes we just need to shut up and let them happen, make room for the possibility of them, open our arms wide to welcome them in.

    A lot of time is spent at their place these days.  Delivering, picking up, taking things away, hanging out with her in the evenings after he's asleep.

    We talk, drink wine, eat Thai food, shelve books, take out the recycling, talk about what still needs done, I set alarms to remind her the next day.  We watch the house across the street, the one that was one fire a week ago.  This week someone was found stabbed to death in it.

    A couple of days ago, I threw in the towel and tossed the quilt to the end of the couch.  Knowing that the only way it could possibly get done was to spend the days frantic and stressed.  Enough.

    One evening, there was a yahrzeit candle burning on their counter.  "It's Dead Mom Day," she said.

        "But it's only the 12th," I said.

    "13th."

       "Isn't it Wednesday the 12th?"

    "It's Tuesday the 13th." 

 

    I'm often confused these days.

 

    We toasted her mom and snacked on a box of Corn Pops cereal, which her mom loved.  Later she pulled out the Christmas decorations, which she doesn't care about, but he likes.  I untangled the lights while she filled the bookshelves with a few ornaments and decorations made by his children when they were young.

    The Christmas sock her mom had made for her long ago was in need of repair.  I took it with me when K came to pick me up.  On the way home I cried, because there are some things that you can't fix.

    Ornaments for my guys in process.  Threadcrumb moons on that starry cloth that K gave me twenty-five years ago when I was pregnant with Blue and full of hope.

Braiding Connections

    "And Still... the Moon"

    The flying dream was a great one.  It was actually more like swimming in the sky.  Keeping my arms close to my body and wiggling like a fish, a mermaid, the movements lifting me towards the stars...

    A morning at my friends' hanging out with him while she took the cat to the vet (the cat is having health issues too).  Again, parking is an issue in their neighborhood, so I pulled up to the building, she and the cat left in my car, and I headed into the condo.  Neither he nor I are morning people, nor had we ever really spent any length of time alone together, so the plan was for us to have our coffee and tea quietly in separate rooms. 

    When I brought him his coffee, he was sitting in a comfortable chair in their bedroom listening to music.  "Here you go.  I'll just be stitching in the living room.  Just let me know if you need anything- more coffee, company, whatever."

    "Yeah, there's a book that I'm listening to that I want to get back to...  My sister told me about it, Braiding..."

    "...Sweetgrass?"

    "You know it?"

    "Yes, I've been hearing about it for years.  I've checked it out of the library several times but haven't actually opened it.  Are you liking it?"

    "Have a seat!"

    "Let me get my tea..."

    He shared about the book, and we wove in and out of topics- connection, and community, how the last weeks have been for him, them, what might come...  Two hours later, she returned, the time had flown by.

    "Robin"

    Coming home, I sat down to stitch, after going to the library website, checking out, and opening the audiobook of Braiding Sweetgrass.  What an amazing, beautiful, spirit filling book, and listening to the author, Robin Wall Kimmerer read it with her soothing rich voice is an added gift.  I'm halfway through.  It's the perfect thing to listen to while stitching.  I can't believe it took me this long to get to this book, but then again, sometimes things happen at just the right time in our lives.  I imagine that I will listen to it again and again, each time remembering a lovely morning conversation with coffee, tea, and connection.

Never a Dull Moment

    Deb's cloth made for an earthy hill on blackberry-ish purples by Tina, with a small scrap of the starry cloth K. gifted me for Christmas twenty-five years ago in anticipation of baby Blue.

    There was a bit more boat mending in the wind and the cold under a daylight moon.

    In an effort to maybe, just maybe, get this quilt done in time, I keep it on my lap while stitching for the shop.  Whenever there is a bit of thread left in the needle, it goes into the quilt.  Sometimes it's only a few stitches, but that keeps things interesting.

    Speaking of interesting... There was an evening at my friend's condo this weekend.  They live near a hospital and a couple of nursing homes, so sirens are common.  But suddenly there was siren after siren...

    We looked out the window to see that the street was full the length of two blocks and around the corner of her building.

    Across the street an old, abandoned house.

    We spent the next hours watching out their windows.  The hours were also spent with fond and fearful memories of my dad's decades as a fire fighter. 

    The house is still standing, without some of the roof and floors.

    "It's never a dull moment around here!" I commented.  We laughed at the crazy their world seems to be full of these days.  Over there again last night, we talked about how pretty the fire actually was, especially at one point when snow was falling.  We thought it could be their Christmas card... "Our world is on fire, and still beautiful... Merry Christmas!"  We laughed some more.  Laughter is such good medicine.

    And so is stitching! (More of Deb and Tina's dyeworks.)

Whole Days

    "Gathering Light"

    What a difference a day can make.  This piece was started and finished today.  There was worry midway that the sky was too much, but I went with it, wanting all of the light that could be found.

    There was a walk with a friend in the arboretum the other day.  Even in the midst of cold and worry, it's always beautiful.

    Our friends have a tentative plan that is laced with a glimmer of hope.  There are a lot of If's and several rings of fire to go through, but if all of the stars align... some hope.  Thank you for all of your loving thoughts.

    Yesterday we drove up to watch Moon's a cappella concert.  It's always such joy to watch these young people having so much fun making music.  And before the show, there was the added delight of dinner with Deb G.!  The whole evening was spirit lifting and filling.

 

    "Where Stories Might Meet"

    And... this piece was finished, too, after being buried under a pile of cloth for four months.  Honestly, there are so many layers in life.

Six of One

    There was a day of halves this week, the day before yesterday...

    It started with half a night's sleep from worrying that I wouldn't wake up in time to go help my friends early in the morning. 

    Halfway to their place, it began to snow.  Parking near their condo is a challenge.  Found a place a block away.  Got halfway down the alley towards their building and realized I forgot something...twice.

 

    Once there, it was snowing harder.  Plans were abandoned.  So, I headed back home.  Taking advantage of the snowfall and throwing in a few half-truths, I canceled an unwelcomed dentist appointment for the afternoon.  The snow stopped soon after, and half of it melted away by the time of the appointment, I didn't call back.

 

    Stitched half a piece, did half of the laundry, watched half of a movie, and then halfway through the day, took half of the friends' stuff that was filling up half of our living room down to the basement, took a half an hour nap.

K came home, asked why I'd only taken care of putting half of the bread into the freezer, leaving the other loaf on the counter?  Made a half-hearted mediocre at best dinner.

 

    At half-past seven, half-way through a show, the power went out, with an ETA of 2am for repairs, half of the night.  Realizing that the leftover half of dinner was still on the counter, and not wanting to open the fridge, the container was put on the porch in the 36-degree weather.  Giving up on the day, I was in bed at 7:44. 

 

    Half an hour later, half asleep, the power came back on.  I got up, washed half of the dishes, and we watched the other half of the show.  As if nothing had happened.