Reflections

Driving home last night on our two lane mountain highway, we slowed for a deer in the road. I was reminded of another night, another road, another deer in headlights, in another state, and a car full of women coming back from dinner to a warm house on the Montana plains.

That week in Montana was spent at a friend's mother's home. We did some weaving, and lots of talking and sharing of meals, and I think there was a day in which I did not get out of my pajamas. In my memory it is one of those stop-time moments: happy women in a warm house in February, sharing fiber activities about which we all are passionate. We shared ideas, news and memories, and in the process wove a blanket of friendship.

I envy my friend that her mother is still such a vibrant and constant part of her life. I envy anyone, in fact, who still has elders in the family willing to share the good times and give us a glimpse of the past: of how they were raised, and what life was like *then*. Another friend and I were talking this week about her recent Thanksgiving meal, which included a Mother-in-law who was raised on an Iowa farm during the Great Depression, and her stories of life growing up then. I also had a Mother-in-law who would share stories of her life growing up on the Dakota plains, in those after-dinner moments, or while we washed the dishes and cleaned up. My own mother died over 17 years ago, and while I can still hear her stories in her voice occasionally in my mind, it is fading.

There are moments in one's life that remain etched in memory. We cannot foresee which ones these will be, and they are not always the Big Moments: the weddings, birthdays and funerals that mark the passages of our lives. Sometimes, they are simple pleasures: the warmth of friends, the cosiness of a car at night, the after-dinner conversations, with happy sated people.

No big weaving revelations here, just gratitude that spinning and weaving has brought so much into my life, and so many wonderful people. And a tip of the glass to Betty, to Harriet, and to Anne, among all the women who create those magical moments that weave us all together.