I know it dates me, but I loved David Bowie and especially his song, ‘Changes’. Remember the platform shoes? The glittery makeup? The wildly spiked hair? He must seem pretty odd to today’s music lovers who have bands dressed in fox suits croaning “what does the fox say?” (clears throat, with affect) Things change. Or do they?
My dear and only sibling has sold her house and is moving to the south. My son is interviewing with a department in the south. My daughter is determined to return to the south. Maybe I should have entitled this post ‘the south’ instead of ‘changes’. Of course we are not talking about one spot, we are talking about Savannah, GA, Austin, TX, and Naples, FL.
I am remembering that when I was young I also moved about. First it was Ithaca, NY. Then off to Laguna Beach, CA. The Boston sirens sang and we moved to the north shore of Swampscott. And then back to New York where our first home was built in horse country. Now I live across the river in apple country. . . far, far from the south. I’m trying to make sense of it all – wondering how I will bear to be apart from the people that I love. When I need to wrap my head around my troubles, I usually find myself in the sewing studio.
There is something strangely comforting about cutting fabric into pieces and finding pleasing combinations when rejoined. A scattered mind can be quieted by the repetition of sewing strips together – or by listening to the gentle hum of the machine and the hiss of the iron. It’s no secret that I find solace in my sewing studio.I’ve had little use for words this weekend as I ponder these changes that are arriving, one after another. I know that I will have to find peace with the decisions my loved ones are making. But no one said that it would be easy!I leave you with two little blocks which are the beginning of a secret gift –And of course C (changes) is, inevitably, next up.