About Me

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Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

An exercise in memory.

When I was clearing dust off Beloved's desk last night, I unearthed a box that I didn't remember seeing (between his clutter, now largely gone, and my own, it's something of a miracle that the box has surfaced only 2.5 years after his passing). Condolence cards, from when he lost his first wife. In my pre-bedtime reading there was a passage about knowing when it's time to let something go. So I promised myself that this evening I would read through those cards, and then the cards I received, feel whatever feelings came to me, and release those cards. I've saved a few personal notes for the boys, and a handful of cards from people with whom I want to reconnect, and the rest will go into the recycling bin.

It was a good evening. I read some great stories about her, and was reminded of others about him, and I only needed to cry a very little. What remains is a smidgen more clear physical space, and an equal or greater increase in spiritual and emotional clarity. And peace. Just a wonderful sense of peace and comfort.

My knitting is arguing with me. Again. More specifically, it's the yarn. I bought a bunch of single skeins a few months into the marriage, with the idea of making pairs of baby socks for future baby showers. The current skein has been chomped repeatedly by something that flew in, or crept in, the drawer where it used to reside. And since it's superwash wool, spit-splicing will be less than effective.

It's time for me to take my evening meds and potions, clear off the bed, and call it a day. My brain wants me to frog back to the first break, create a non-bulky join, and work back to where I stopped. My eyes are saying enough.

The eyes have it.

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