Maria's tree is our kitchen tree, and stands adored and bedecked in the middle of our kitchen, on the countertop. It's almost majestical, but leaning toward whimsical. Whimjestic? We have a nutcracker... I remember when the boys thought those looked appealing and good. I'd never appreciated them, but we have seen a number of Nutcracker productions, going way back, and the nutcrackers have grown on me. The chocolate chipmunk was one of the earliest ornaments acquired after marriage. Why a chipmunk on a cookie? I don't have to overthink this, because I already know: I have a fondness for small mammals in scarves, sipping cocoa, living in hollowed trunks with mantles and stockings. The handmade chicken, with the beady eye, came from Calamity Kim, and I am happy to think of her as I drink my morning tea. I think the cat and fish was a gift from Tutu Ruth. I wonder if she can confirm? See? Here is another reason to keep blogging, because it helps me keep some facts in order. The tea and cookies, with books... I don't need confirmation: It was Grandmother Eunice's ornament. I picture it on her nightstand, and seeing it every time I walk through the kitchen, cook... my heart fills full of emotion, recollection, longing, and finally soft, gentle gratitude, because I love her, because she made me want to be a better person, and she made me happy. I miss her. I miss her terribly.
My heart is full of emotion, and my eyes are full of tears.
I need levity... and there's Cairo, my studio assistant. And also, me, dressed like a true California woman. On my way to physical therapy, it occurs to me that it's cold out, so I keep my cozy slippers on.
Goodness. That was a lot.
Am I blogging too much?
Besides art classes, and Christmas trees, making products for our Etsy shop, and all of the regular school and Bird House chores, my thoughts have been very much preoccupied with December 6... and the accident that was a year ago. "Accident," God, I hate that word. It was no accident. And still, a year later, I am in the middle of the mess created by the choices of a woman who drank at an office party (days after the end of her probation for DUI) and then drove while intoxicated. She was way over the legal limit. She didn't turn on her headlights. She didn't stop at the sign... she drove straight into my van from a right turn, so I had no chance of seeing her coming. There were no skid marks to show she ever braked. Still dealing with it, still a restitution hearing to complete, still the whole civil case to go through.
In the van, when I came to, my face hurt and I felt so scared, and when I realized what had happened, I became profoundly sad and distressed... and I have not shaken that grief, the hurtful sense of knowing that physical healing might be nothing compared with trying to rise above the insurance-paperwork-courtroom hassles. How did I know? I started crying, sputtering through an injured mouth, "No, no, no, no," because I could picture all the times ahead of me when paperwork and policies, bureaucracy and confusion would rule my days. Shit. One year later... I still deal with pain, memory loss, nightmares, and anxiety. One year later and there is still paper work, hearings, and legal wrangling. One year later and I still feel sad, and probably I should admit: Disappointment... in myself, for not being braver, more resilient, for not 'getting over it.' Shit.
Suddenly that anecdote from Fred Rogers popped into my head, and I know it was meant as supportive words for young children, but I find some light in the idea that in troubling times we should "look for the helpers." I have been troubled and scared for a year, but I have also seen helpers, friends, and family, who have stood by me, checked in, held me up, comforted me, offered distractions and encouragement, shown me patience, and new paths.
I wish I had more pictures... I truly adore my classmates and all of the beautiful art created.
A year ago, the morning after the collision, Alex brought me to the last class of watercolor painting. I was too distraught at the idea that I might miss this special class, so dazed and confused, I went, and I never would have got through it without Alex. It was probably stupid of me to go... I had a concussion and everything was beginning to hurt; and none of that matters to me as much as how much it would have hurt to not complete my class, see my peers' finished paintings, see my accomplishments through to the end. My teacher, Kris, hugged me and spoke wise and tender words into my ear, and that was a balm on my psyche.
And today, December 6, 2019, Alex brought me to the last day of watercolor class, again, and I saw my friends and their art, and reflected on the good I have enjoyed in this class, how my art has evolved, how, in spite of the challenges, I am here, and enjoying wonderful opportunities and exchanges. I love my classmates, and our journey, the long day we spend together, learning, laughing, sharing our ideas and experiences. I love making progress, facing challenges, and being in the company of good people, fun people. I feel so fortunate to have had this time in school, and to be here, again, healing, overcoming, eager to keep moving forward.
Later, I went to MNO, which I missed last year, and that was emotionally a hard thing to do. I had thought it would be a chance to speak up about my year, about the hardships I've struggled to deal with. In the end, I was quiet, as usual. Somewhere, in my head, are thoughts on finding my voice... not in a blog, but in person, face to face, and I think I should find a way to let those words out.
Alex joined me for my second art class, where Tori and I have been practicing life-drawing techniques. Oh, my goodness, this class has been hard! Hard, and worthwhile.
I love Geoff and Cairo, and their face time engagement.
Oh, yeah, this post is long. And it's taking me forever to write. I still struggle with composing my thoughts and getting them written or spoken aloud. The typos! OHmyGOats. And then my neck and shoulder lock up. Good grief.
Should I just take a break? Yes. A break. Then hopefully, I can come back later and write little notes about why the rest of these pictures are here, how they make me feel or what I recall about them. Mostly, I see they are just moments of happiness in our Autumn days, and maybe it's enough to say just that...