Well. The words that really come to mind are ones I wouldn't like my Grandma to hear me use. I advised myself this: "In dark times, be a light." Ten minutes later, I was screaming obscenities out the car window when a fellow traveler dared to honk at me. Hoo, this next little while is going to call for some fortitude, I think, and a swift reassessment of where I thought I lived. Be brave, friends, and love one another. Remember to be kind. Remember that everyone you meet is dealing with something hard. Canadian and overseas friends, please light a candle for us, for we struggle mightily.
Knitting seems superfluous at the moment. Who has time to care what I'm knitting? Who has room in their rattled souls to pay any attention to my latest project? I have bounced from one work-in-progress to another, cast on stuff, searched for the balm that is always there for me in knitting, has always been there. I pick things up and put them down again, and just sit with my hands in my lap, looking out the window at the amazing blue sky, golden leaves against it, wind blowing the color down to lie on the ground and wither. There is very little forward progress. It all looks so hard.
I can hardly imagine what will happen now. Catdog, her wagging tail a blur, with her velvet face and silky soft ears and chocolate kiss eyes knows only that there is a warm fire and possibly a cookie, and if I sit down on the floor, she crawls into my lap, presses her face against mine, sniffles my hair, and it is good medicine. I will make warm things with wool. I will hold the door for you. I will probably keep cursing when I need to, and will be as much a light as I can. Onward.