I’m going away for a few days, and while I wanted to get the fabric WIP put together, it didn’t happen. I did get my shower cleaned, so I’m not entirely displeased about the unfinished quilt top. More I’m aware that all things occur at their proper time. That quilt isn’t going anywhere, and by the end of May, I’ll have that project basted, maybe even under my hand-quilting needle.
The Hawk languishes in a similar sort of space; I won’t say that by the month’s end I’ll be writing, but maybe I’ll have returned to revising; my goodness I miss working on that book. I miss expressing myself via prose, I miss being deeply involved in a completely different sort of existence. I miss who I used to be a couple of years ago, but that woman has moved on.
Becoming an abuela has been a process somewhat like turning into a quilter or taking on novels. Baby steps, ha ha, come first, then suddenly Little Miss is nearly two and not having toddlers in my life seems strange. But then, not writing is weird; separate spheres are trying to slot themselves into proper positions and as the toddlers show their turbulent sides, I’m having to wrestle the desire to create alongside nurturing my beautiful family.
My life can be noted by decades; in my twenties I became a mother. My thirties were spent raising kids, teaching them too. By my forties they were teens, and I was learning how to write fiction. Now they are all in their twenties, dude! My fifties seems to be the Grandma decade, and I’m grateful to be close to my daughters emotionally and geographically. Yet this alteration isn’t without some growing pains, more for the wee ones than myself, and even when I’m feeling a little wonky, I can view more than what tomorrow might bring. And that too is a fantastic blessing; perhaps my sixties will be another wordy jumble of years, stories that percolate in my brain finally landing on virtual documents. In ten years, The Burrito and Little Miss will be preteens, jeez! A grandmother’s presence won’t be as necessary for them or their folks; I’ll probably be the one needing a daily nap, hehehe.
As I absorb this latest life lesson, I’m mindful of how brief these days are, this interruption in writing and sewing really no more than a hiccup. I’m also trying to impart these notions to my daughters; as they want to make their children’s lives smooth, I do too. Becoming a grandmother isn’t as earth-shattering as turning into someone’s mom, but it has required moments for reflection. And it’s nice to know new discoveries wait on the horizon. Toddlers aren’t the only ones learning, but thankfully my curve isn’t as steep as theirs. I’d fall right off the edge, let me tell you. Plenty of quilts will soften all our landings, or maybe we’ll just snuggle under them, letting love be the best teacher.