She had a baby three years ago. I made her a quilt. A really pretty one. It was bright and modern and fun. It was meant to be used, not stored somewhere so it doesn’t get dirty.
I mailed it to her.
I hadn’t seen her in years.
I hadn’t known she was pregnant.
Still, she’s my cousin.
Our mothers are sisters. They don’t get along very well. Our mothers are not our birth mothers. She was adopted from South America when she was three years old. I was adopted from the hospital where I was born and taken home when I was three days old.
She’s several years younger then me.
I loved her right away.
She lived several states away and we rarely saw each other growing up.
She had some hard times.
Some really hard times.
Nobody likes to talk about it.
Her mother won’t talk about her.
Her mother moved back to her home state.
My cousin lives where she was raised.
I don’t know if she got the baby quilt.
I texted. I Facebook messaged. I tried.
I hope she got it. I hope she uses it. I hope her little girl likes it.
There’s something very empowering about being brand new to something. You have the luxury of not knowing much, and therefore not being expected to be terribly proficient at whatever it is. Now granted, there are times when this is a horrible disadvantage, like say for a brain surgeon. I wouldn’t want to be standing there in an operating room facing my first exposed brain. That seems like a lot of pressure.
In other situations, however, I believe the role of the novice can be quite freeing.
Someone who picks up paints for the first time may not be inhibited by color theory in ways that a more experienced artist might. A first time novelist may not be as concerned with plot structure as a writer with several editions under her belt. A new quilter may not realize that certain fabrics “shouldn’t” go together, and as a result she might create something bold, beautiful, and unique.
Maybe it’s the creative pursuits where newness has the biggest advantage. Even in creative endeavors there are “rules” and ways of doing things that will produce somewhat predictable results, but many times those rules are meant to be broken. Newbies don’t worry so much about the rules, in fact they may be blissfully unaware of them. I think that’s a good thing.
With newness comes exploration and wonder, whether it’s with paints, fabrics, words, or human relationships. Everything is fresh and untried. Each path is new and unexplored. Some of them work out beautifully while others may be unsatisfying or even cause difficulty.
Whether you’re experimenting with clay or a banjo or a human heart, being new brings a level of energy and excitement that is difficult to recapture. Enjoy the experience. Expertise will come, if you want it badly enough, and if it’s meant to be.
I’m in the process of trying to reclaim the things that I want for my life. I have managed, over the past several months, or maybe even more, to get comfortable. That comfort has led to laziness, both physical and mental. In a nutshell here’s what I think happened.
I was married for a long time. I had a normal little family (mom, dad, kid) until suddenly, one day, I didn’t. I got divorced and was forced to spend some time soul-searching and figuring out what I wanted from my life. I was still a mom, only my role had changed, since I didn’t have my son with me all the time anymore. That was brutal.
I had to decide how I wanted my life to turn out. I was required to make difficult decisions that I never thought I would be faced with, but I did it, and I’m proud to say I did it with grace. I pulled though stronger and better equipped to face the future than I would have thought possible.
I was beginning to understand what made me truly happy, perhaps for the first time ever. I did things I had put off doing, and went places I wanted to go. I began to develop new interests and I dusted off some old ones. Then I ventured out into the big wide world, and I miraculously managed to meet someone wonderful.
We’ve spent time getting to know one another, and we’ve committed ourselves to each other. We, along with my son, have become a family. We’ve purchased a home and we function as a unit. It’s a very happy, safe, and comfortable place to be. I like this feeling a lot.
We both work long hours, and we both are sort of home-bodies. We do enjoy the theater, and attend live performances regularly. We both enjoy food, so dining out is a fairly regular occurence for us too. Other than that, we tend to stay home. We like our home. We like each other’s company. But here’s the thing, I’ve noticed that I’ve pushed the other things I enjoy to the back burner so that I can just “hang out” with him. I need to quit doing that. Participating in NaNoWriMo and NoBloPoMo are great ways for me to make sure that the time I’m spending isn’t wasted time.
I’m not suggesting that spending time with loved ones is wasted time. It isn’t. Spending time watching sitcoms with loved ones can be, though. Instead of mindlessly watching tv, I would rather bring out my laptop and work on a chapter of my novel or begin a new blog post. Instead of watching the adult cartoons he so enjoys, I can keep him company while I stitch on a quilt binding (of course there would have to be a quilt ready to be bound for that, but you get the idea). Maybe I can even convince him to take a walk around the park with me. It would do us both a world of good. And I still have all this extra weight I need to lose. The couch isn’t any good for helping me make progress in that area. Neither is the half price Halloween candy, but I digress.
There are only 24 hours in each day, no matter how you look at it. I need to use mine to further my goals and to help me live my best life. Watching tv won’t help me do that. I know that, but I’m still keeping Monday nights open, after all, everyone needs some downtime, right?
It’s my cousin’s birthday.
BulgingButtons 