Tag Archives: reflections

A Peek at the Beach

All pics taken today at The Hook in Capitola.

All pics taken today at The Hook in Capitola.

Before I started sewing, I went to the beach.  I have more photos of the Pacific from The Hook in Capitola than is good for me.  And again I’ve added to that collection, a few more snapped on a pleasant sunny California day.  I brought along a friend, who is nearing the end of her visit.  We’ve had a lovely week together, capped off by this excursion to the ocean.

As I strolled, peering down at the changing waves, I considered the alterations since I last trekked about this stretch.  It was New Year’s Eve 2013 or New Year’s Day 2014; so much has occurred since that rather brisk end of year/beginning of another as the sun rose, signaling another day, but so much beyond that.  Dad was alive, no sewing going on, The Hawk in its infancy.  No grandkids either might I add, and fifty loomed in the distance.  Now that’s on the cusp as well as nearly a year since my father died; how funny are all the parts that converge as time passes.

But the ocean keeps ebbing and flowing, one of my favourite parts of observing it.  It never stops regardless of what is happening in our lives.  And even better is how it never looks the same.  If all my Capitola photos were compared, no two would be exactly alike.  A wave’s height and breadth can’t be repeated; each visit to Capitola is as unique as every dip and curl of the water.

I try to keep that in mind as these changes seem daunting, or still so odd; can it be that my father has been dead almost an entire year?  Well, it had been over two years since I’d stepped onto the sand; time does not stop.  But my perception of time has been wrenched from how I used to consider days and weeks….  Over the last few months, the minutes and hours have blurred as if I live in two worlds, that of right where I sit and a far less corporeal existence more like the rolling of waves.  Dad’s gone, or is he?  Maybe he’s behind my shoulder as I type or was he at The Hook, walking by my side.  Eternity doesn’t seem so fantastical of an idea as it used to be.

Not that I feel ill, although I do note more aches than previously; I am an abuela, after all.  I’m also keenly aware of how beautiful is this life, how expansive like the Pacific.  These past forty-nine years are but a drop in the bucket, like all the pictures I’ve taken at The Hook, all the words written, quilts sewn.  A vast horizon awaits, draped in mystery and joy.  Sometimes it will look like the ocean, a grandchild’s gorgeous smile, or the warmth of my husband’s strong arms.  But how much is tantalizingly just past my view, but as familiar as these photos as if all my days will be spent at the beach.

What a terrific notion, ha ha.  Maybe Dad is fishing along the Sacramento River, one of his fave spots.  Our time in this realm is mysterious, or maybe it’s as obvious as the earth revealed at low tide.  I love viewing the beach in this manner, like a blanket has been pulled back, proffering a peek at a usually hidden world.  Our lives could be deemed the same, the outer layers like high tide, but underneath, ahhh….

Bring on the continued mystery!  I can’t wait to see what happens next.

The Hawk, Part Five

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!