From the time I was 5 to t he age of 11 our family lived in a darling, cozy home in East Layton. It was a small, split level, Tudor-style house and my parents were masters at finding a use for every nook and cranny. In the basement was one unfinished room. It was a utility closet that doubled as the laundry room and Mom managed to carve out a small space to be her sewing spot. From the backyard we could look down into a basement window and see our mom working on some kind of creation as we played the summer days away.
This picture, this snapshot in time, flashed through my mind today as I escaped to my cool, unfinished basement. I’ve also got a little spot, amid the food storage and the moving boxes, for my sewing machine. And, today I had a stack of hole-in-the-knee pants that needed transforming. As I cut off pant legs and hemmed ‘new’ shorts, I thought of my mom and the circle that life is. Once I was the recipient of the make-do creations Mom came up with in her cellar-dweller spot: homemade clothes; remade hand-me-downs; home-spun doll outfit and costumes and toys.
She was much more creative than I’ll ever hope to be. But, as I presented their ‘new’ clothes to Dal and Kate, they were excited to have more short pants in their drawers: summer clothes to play in and wear out and get messy. And, I was grateful for a mom who used whatever she had to create a childhood of wonderful.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
life is not a straight line
I’m admittedly a Facebook holdout. I’m not sure why, except it is my own small way to be different. Like refusing to read “Breaking Dawn.” I’m such a rebel. But, I digress…
I think the real reason I can’t sign up with Facebook is because my brain cannot manage to be connected to any more people. What a problem! I’ve been blessed, in overabundance, with amazing friends, family, acquaintances, neighbors. People I really, really like to be in touch with. Christmas-card-writing season, while quite possibly my favorite part of the holiday, is downright daunting. I love it. I really do. But, Facebook would add to the crazies.
----
Friday night, amid a plateful of goodies and surrounded by the constant (wonderful) chatter of female friends, I was filled with gratitude for people. We were gathered to say ‘goodbye’ to two friends who are moving; two women who have managed, in only one year, to wind themselves into my heart. Maybe my moving three times in three years has made me good at getting attached fast. Maybe I’ve just been extra lucky to run into great people along the way. Whatever the reason, I think saying goodbye pretty much stinks.
---
“See you the next time you pass through!” I called out as we left the restaurant. We’d just spent the afternoon and evening reconnecting with a high school friend (and her darling boys) who were in town, waylaid for the night en route back home. A friend with whom I lost contact for about a decade, but who now (thanks to blogging and the common denominator of meeting up in Utah), I cherish as one of those “forever friends” Michael McLean crooned about back in the day.
---
“Life is not a straight line.” That’s what Lloyd Newell mused on this morning’s Spoken Word. Coming and going, moving and staying, passing through. I, for one, have been blessed by the lives that have snaked through mine.
I think the real reason I can’t sign up with Facebook is because my brain cannot manage to be connected to any more people. What a problem! I’ve been blessed, in overabundance, with amazing friends, family, acquaintances, neighbors. People I really, really like to be in touch with. Christmas-card-writing season, while quite possibly my favorite part of the holiday, is downright daunting. I love it. I really do. But, Facebook would add to the crazies.
----
Friday night, amid a plateful of goodies and surrounded by the constant (wonderful) chatter of female friends, I was filled with gratitude for people. We were gathered to say ‘goodbye’ to two friends who are moving; two women who have managed, in only one year, to wind themselves into my heart. Maybe my moving three times in three years has made me good at getting attached fast. Maybe I’ve just been extra lucky to run into great people along the way. Whatever the reason, I think saying goodbye pretty much stinks.
---
“See you the next time you pass through!” I called out as we left the restaurant. We’d just spent the afternoon and evening reconnecting with a high school friend (and her darling boys) who were in town, waylaid for the night en route back home. A friend with whom I lost contact for about a decade, but who now (thanks to blogging and the common denominator of meeting up in Utah), I cherish as one of those “forever friends” Michael McLean crooned about back in the day.
---
“Life is not a straight line.” That’s what Lloyd Newell mused on this morning’s Spoken Word. Coming and going, moving and staying, passing through. I, for one, have been blessed by the lives that have snaked through mine.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
