I spent much of last week helping my daughter move house; mostly I sewed curtains. I had never sewn curtains, but a few sites made it seem pretty simple, and it was. I have to say I am very pleased with the results, but more so, I am happy to be home.
But being home now carries a two-fold meaning; crafting drapes, even basic ones, then hanging those curtains, makes this mum feel a stamp has been put on a house. And that it’s near my dad, who is starting to feel the effects of seven rounds of chemotherapy, well, my heart is slightly adrift in my chest, as if being home is wherever I happen to lay my head, or park my keister behind a card table doubling as a sewing table.
What is home; what constitutes the sense of contentment of the soul’s dwelling place? For ages, Britain was home, even if it was thousands of miles from my native state. Now home is… Driving on auto-pilot of sorts last night, returning to the Bay Area, I found that home was exactly where I was right then, along freeways, be they two-lane Sacramento Valley interstates or five-lane Silicon Valley thoroughfares. The music helped, crunchy guitars that set the pace, once wide motorways were the norm. That steady and speedy thump-bump spun a different pulse through me, far removed from the quiet which had surrounded for several days, only interrupted by my buzzing sewing machine.
I made a LOT of curtains last week. And I still have one to go, plus I think a quilt will emerge from the remnants, very cool. And I think I’ll make curtains here at our house, for my son’s room, as his blinds are quite wonky. It’s pretty dang easy to put up curtain rods, then fashion window coverings. And it’s very satisfying, as well as claiming a piece of that place as mine.
But I didn’t imagine that when I began.
So now, I’m back to my own crib, quilts waiting, along with pansies in need of attention and other garden-related activities. And some reading, and maybe writing, in the coming weeks. Dad has three more rounds of chemo, assuming his PSA continues to drop, and I have some road trips on the horizon, to visit with him and Mum, see my daughter, and hang one more curtain at her new place. But intriguing thoughts are wafting in my mind, and an unexpected peace accompanying.
Any and all peace is welcome, especially if it springs from sewing. Hopefully, once Dad’s chemo is done, and the quilts chill out, I can recover some writing peace as well. Summer is just beginning; what an interesting one it shall be!