I’ve been silent for the past few months. We were gearing up to move, again, and the stress and unsettled feeling of living out of boxes and suitcases left me with little time and emotional space to sit down and write.
We have moved three times in the last three years, and two of them were interstate moves. I use to move all the time when I was in my 20s and 30s. Moving around seem romantic, and the inability to stay in one place I took as a mark of my adventurousness and resistance to nostalgia. Now, all I want is to stay put and live in predictable familiar orbits. And, I think, for the next few years, we have found that. We have finally moved into a place we can all see ourselves living in happily for a few years. There is a large, private yard with large pine trees, and it is the perfect retreat from a long day at work. The house is spacious but cozy at the same time. It is just perfect for the three of us.
My spinning and knitting have also been disrupted by all the moving. I’ve been knitting in spurts, but the spinning has really declined in the past few months. Part of it is just the time it takes to look for housing, pack, unpack. And the other part of it is the tug and pull of work, and the urgency of the project that I need to write into being.
I hope that once we completely settle in, I’ll be able to direct my creative energies more evenly.