Saturday, December 06, 2008


silk shawl2 April 2007
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.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

and a tip of my glass to you.
Perfectly said.
thank you.

8:13 AM  
Blogger Jean said...

Beautiful, thoughtful post. I still have my grandfather who was born in the house just down the road from his on "his" mountain in New Hampshire. I could sit and listen to him for hours as he talks about all the things and ways of life that are long forgotten.

9:30 AM  
Blogger Sharon said...

I was fortunate to have my mother until the spring of 2001, and I'm relieved that she didn't have to experience 9/11 - it would have been very painful for her at 95. We're babysitting tonight. My daughter and her husband are taking the "other" mom to dinner and are trying to help her sort through things. The "other" grandpa died this morning. It's so hard but I remind myself that if we didn't love in the first place, we wouldn't feel loss.

6:53 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

And if we didn't love and loose we would have, as Garth Brooks song said, "if I had known how it would end I would have not missed the dance".

Terry in beautiful Mendocino County dancing

8:03 PM  
Blogger Kristine said...

I love this post.

3:43 PM  
Blogger Julie said...

You made me cry, my mother passed just over 16 years ago of cancer. I miss her every day and wish she was here. I didn't knit, spin or weave when she was alive but I think she would love that I have picked them up. She love hand work and I learned at a very early age to love it also.

7:04 AM  
Blogger Charleen said...

Beautiful memories, Sara. I know how fortunate I am to have had my mother as long as I did. Now it's my turn to be the storyteller.

5:30 PM  
Blogger Donna said...

What a beautiful post Sara.

6:44 AM  

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