Sometimes plans go awry, but in this case, it means an additional entry to this series. Originally I had slated for Part Five to be released early next year, but…. But I changed my mind, and here it is, available on Smashwords in all formats.
As the end of 2015 approaches, I also want to note a few meanderings in how my life has altered; compared to years past, the writing has slowed considerably, but then previously babies and quilts weren’t considered. Life without my dad around has changed me, pointing out how fleeting is our presence within this world, and how suddenly we climb the ladder of distinguished familial members. Perhaps becoming a grandmother hastened that ascendance, although other than a few minor aches, I don’t feel much older. I feel like….
Like another part of my life has begun. But it’s not quite like releasing yet another piece of a serialized novel, although they do share one distinct trait; I have no idea when The Hawk will be completed, just like I’m clueless as to when my corporeal presence will cease. And thankfully I’m so busy with words and fabrics and caring for adorable infants I have little time to mull over such details. The Burrito is ten months old and walking, while Little Miss is six months and sitting like a pro. She loves Buttercup, of course, who is very good with both babies, and extremely pleased when food falls from their high chairs into her waiting mouth. The above shot was taken the day after Thanksgiving, at which time The Burrito was merely experimenting with steps. Now he toddles all over, while Little Miss lunges for Buttercup, a first Christmas for both just around the corner.
As this year comes to an end, I wish to acknowledge how good is this life, how changes that might outwardly appear unfortunate season who we are becoming, whether it’s a grandmother or improv quilter or someone on the cusp of turning a year old. Ten years ago I participated in my first NaNoWriMo, and while the words aren’t as plentiful as before, I’d like to think they have become more meaningful. And I must release expectations as to how they will continue to flow, permitting that all things are beyond my control. But that is fine, it truly is. My father died this year, two grandchildren were born. I’ve started hand-quilting, a process that while slower than using my machine, proffers more time to study the fabrics pieced together. Maybe the output will be lessened, but the love that goes into comforters only increases.
And that is my lesson for 2015, to live in this moment as much as is feasible. Memories are welcome, but so much is happening that I have little time to reminisce. Which for me is good, because even though Dad is gone, he’s here in my toddling grandchildren, in the quilts, and the words. And of course, within my heart, a muscle that performs miracles by keeping everything in working order via beats and love. This Christmastime, I am reminded of the tender but powerful gift of love, which I always hope to relay within my novels, through quilts, and to gently instill within those little ones. I share that love with you today, wishing a most peaceful Advent season, followed by a very happy Christmas!