To say I’ve been busy lately would be an understatement. Writing has fallen by the wayside, although I am still poking at The Hawk, chapters being revised when I get a moment. Sewing too has dropped off, but I do have a new quilt wall upon which to design.
I don’t think I’ve been so set apart from writing since I began this adventure over ten years ago. Well, maybe this is the perfect time to denote the alterations. Ten years ago this month my family moved back to America after nearly eleven years spent in North Yorkshire, England.
Right now my eldest and her family are moving house, while my youngest pines for her beloved, who is on an internship back east until June. My middle child, who moved out last summer, is swimming right along, for which my husband and I are grateful. Enough upheaval with that chap’s two sisters for the time being.
But if I take a minute to reflect on all that was happening a decade ago, perhaps that is the last time I felt swept up in massive change. Not even when The Burrito was born two years ago compares, or that my father died right afterwards. And if that sounds strange, all I can say is the activities which overtook me then weren’t as physically taxing as what my life has been like lately. More emotionally draining, yes, however in getting older, maybe I weather the heart storms better than before. Bustling action feels more wearying.
If nothing else, the last few weeks are more comparable to what occurred as we left Great Britain, or maybe the notion of moving makes it seem so. Living vicariously just a little through my kids, I recall how that relocation acted like a demarcation, although I had no clue how clearly the lines would fall.
A homeschooling ex-pat mum was about to become a writer, just like how two years ago I went from a writer to grandma. Whoa, dude….
And now a quilter, when time permits, although family always comes first. Before I was an author or quilter, I was a mother. And for me, motherhood trumps most everything else.
But unlike how my daughters are hip-deep in toddlers, now motherhood beckons more in waves. Often the tide is low, but when it rises, whoo boy! Hold onto your hats and let the thrills carry you along.
If I look back at the last ten years, pastimes have come and gone; no longer do I get to Capitola once a month to admire the beach, nor do I pound out first drafts like nobody’s business. I drive more now maybe, although as soon as my eldest is settled, I’ll be visiting her via public transport. And that too is good; I am getting older, and why use my car if it’s not necessary?
How blessed is that scenario, alongside the fact that even if The Hawk isn’t done, I’m still plodding away at that manuscript. Ten years ago I hadn’t finished my first book, wasn’t sure if I would. Then we landed in Silicon Valley, and while in temporary housing, the words returned, words that I know will tumble when the time is right.
Quilts will be completed in a similar manner. Thankfully the fabric WIP has a safe place to rest while I’m otherwise engaged. In the meantime, time continues to tick, another ten years in America waiting to unfold….