Tag Archives: life changes

The Hawk, Part Thirteen

Usually when another piece of this saga has been published, an accompanying entry is brief; it’s up and you can find it here.  But while I plan to release this tale in a formal manner, more needs to be acknowledged.  Making the conclusion available closes a large circle that I couldn’t have dreamed when first starting this book over four years ago.

I wasn’t a grandmother then, my familial role that of supporting my parents while Dad battled cancer, occasionally helping out my offspring when the need arose.  This tale started humbly, but quickly I sensed a wider scope emerging.  At the same time, my father underwent chemotherapy while quilts knocked on my door.  Writing fell by the wayside; it was difficult concentrating and sewing required less brain power.  Then my youngest became pregnant, followed by her elder sister and….

Suddenly my existence as an author seemed to have vanished on a stiff wind.  Now I wonder if not for The Hawk, might I have eschewed writing altogether?  Yet there was a story to tell, at times bigger than I thought I could tackle.  In bits and chunks I wrote, then decided to simultaneously publish what had accumulated.  That too kept me writing, although the more I fashioned, the longer this tale grew.

In the interim, babies were born, my dad passed.  Eric, Lynne, and the rest became an extension of my own clan; when not writing, I wondered when I might return to their realm, and when I was working, I pondered how blessed was my life with The Burrito, Little Miss, and Miss Em.  My father would find their antics amusing, perhaps how he views my foray into fiction.  How I see my novelistic endeavors has altered, and this story stands like a demarcation; closing my eyes, I easily recall my previous life as an author, but in taking a good look, that woman appears half formed.

Maybe that is simply indicative of life’s changes, but how often do we get a guidebook or pamphlet in the middle of such transitions?  For me, that is what The Hawk has become, a Life Echo minus the sound.  Yet melodic memories waft right over my head, laying their healing beauty within my ears as I read Eric’s laments, Lynne’s dreams, Stanford’s hesitations, Laurie’s joy, Sam’s eagerness, Renee’s hopes, Marek’s wisdom, Seth’s fears, Klaudia’s wariness.  My goodness, that’s quite a collection, but The Hawk isn’t a small novel, lol.  It’s many love stories, a few tragedies.  It’s fact and fantasy set in the 1960s and thank the Lord it’s finally finished.  The entire collection is available on Smashwords, and will be released in full on various other online retailers soon.

Still here….

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.

A project for my husband, who likes to sleep with a little extra something over his shoulders. One of my fave pieces, and I get to see it every day.

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.

I didn’t make this tree skirt, but finished it up for my eldest daughter; I should have used flannel for the batting, but it will be comfy for Buttercup come December, until presents obscure it, ha ha.

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.

New quilt wall! In what used to be our son’s room is now where I can plot out big projects.

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.

This particular quilt is a remake of one I did in 2014; I had many of the florals, cutting new solids.

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.

Nearly completed….

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….

It mostly looks like this; after visits by Little Miss, The Burrito, and Buttercup, some squares ended up on the floor, then were put back relatively as in this photo.

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.

A visit in February to Trinidad Head in Humboldt County; after days of rain, glorious sun shone!

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.

More from Trinidad Head….

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?

Maybe I don’t get to Capitola much now, but the ocean still calls to me; the Pacific from Trinidad Head.

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.

And lastly, the quilt from this morning; rows on the left have been sewn together, those on the top right are sewn, but not attached to each other, while the remaining squares need all of my attention. One of these days, I promise!

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….