handstories

Ghosts & Going

    The story of this one changed every time I picked it up.

 

 

    Moon was home for a few days.  Doing great.  We talked for hours.  We've come so far and are so the same.  Gratefully, he doesn't mind anymore. 

    There was the moment when I started to tell him something about my childhood, and he stopped me, "Are you sure you want to tell me?"  Because somewhere inside of him, he knows.

    "I'm not going to tell you about that yet."  Because we both know that I know he knows.

    And remembering a conversation with a family member decades ago... Him saying, "I don't know why you can't..."

    "Do you want to know?  Because I will tell you."

    "No.  I don't need to know."  Because he knew.

 

    Working on the woven quilt again.  Not worrying about anything with this- crooked wavering stitched lines, variations in thickness, rough edges, nothing.  Letting it all go.  Just going.  I wish I could do that with everything.

    Thank goodness for the moon to rest in.

Pink Stories

    Continuing with this idea slowly... Calling them "Her Stories" in my mind.  None of the three are finished, and the ideas keep coming...  I think I might keep these, at least for a while.

    Last week was A Week.  Someone said, "Look at it as an opportunity... A door has opened for things to change."

    I said, "It feels like the door has been kicked in with me standing on the other side of it, and now I'm smashed under it."

 

 

    Cathy Cullis invited folks to fill a sketchbook over the last weekend.  A good opportunity to play.

 

 

    Drawing with my eyes open was a challenge, I had to work at not caring too much.

 

 

    Out from under the door now, moving awkwardly through.

    Pink is playing a part in everything it seems.

 

    This one was rooted in pink thoughts... both rosy imaginings and the scratch marks of memory. There are so many shades in each story.  Pink has held ALL of the feelings for me- sweet and sour, mostly the latter. It’s taken a long time for our relationship to evolve into a balance of pretty and poignant, with a dash of passion. It's good to be friends at last.