My collection of motherhood poetry will soon be released electronically, to be followed by a printed option, both at Amazon. com
The manuscript has been fully proofed and is awaiting the finishing design touches.
My collection of motherhood poetry will soon be released electronically, to be followed by a printed option, both at Amazon. com
The manuscript has been fully proofed and is awaiting the finishing design touches.
After three busy days, I finally have a free morning. There is a stack of items on my cedar chest waiting for mending. I retrieve my sewing kit and pull out the collection of threads. Threading the tiny needle is a challenge. I switch to a bigger one. As I make each stitch, I am struck by the quietness of this activity and how antiquated it seems. I was taught this by a generation that has passed. Most would simply throw away these ripped items. Perhaps, I should be doing that myself. Instead, I am enjoying the motion of the needle through the material, how it pushes through and then loops around, closing the gaps. Everything seems so different than the way it was when I grew up. When I told my students about riding my bike through a narrow path in the pine woods, or imagining things as I played outside in my backyard, creating my own inner world, they looked at me with wistful faces and said, “We want to have that, too.”
I have embarked on a major de-cluttering project in the basement. When I left home, my mom told me to keep a shoe box of receipts for each year. I have done this religiously and am now shredding “a box a day.” Right now, I am processing 1986 and it is fascinating to see a number of things: my checking account interest was 5.25%; many of the retail stores I did business with are now gone, i.e. The Denver Dry Goods; even names of former hair salons and dentists bring back vivid images. It feels good to do this!