““Sometimes,’ said Pooh, ‘the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”
It has been a solid thirty-one days since my last post. True, it has been a very busy thirty-one days with Christmas preparation and visits to and from family. But I am noting a trend here, and it has been occupying my thoughts many times each day. I seem to be having less time to focus on Lala Land. Or perhaps, Lala Land has served its most extraordinary purpose ~ my lifeline to you. Maybe, just maybe, I can feel the connection that links my old life to my new life in different small ways everyday, and that has made Lala Land less essential.
To be clear, my connection to you and my need to honor those sixty-six years of relationships in California has not diminished in importance. In fact, I continue to have moments of sadness, regret and fear on a daily basis (don't we all at this particular developmental juncture?). But it is all now less acute; more like a thread running through the everyday experience of everyday life. Along with the other threads it is just part of the creation of the whole swatch; and the weave seems to be more even these days, with fewer bumps and unintentional holes along the way.
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Kiel, Carly and Tala came to visit our new Virginia home for the first time since we moved here. They arrived on Christmas Eve planning to stay five days. Nine days and ten+ rapid Covid tests later (all negative), they loaded up the car and drove back to Connecticut. Tala brought with her a non-Covid virus that she picked up from school and, like wildfire, it roared through each adult in the household giving us the gift of four extra days with her. Amazing the love, the joy, the exhaustion an almost two year old can bring with just her everyday presence. With that experience, Tala gave me something I have been craving since we moved here ~ the sense that time is limited, time is flying by AND THAT IS OKAY. Now I know, Lala Land was just the next chapter that will run into the chapter after that which at this point in time has no name. Which doesn't mean it is nameless; just that it is not yet known to me.
My daughter-in-law (Carly) has a tradition with her mother and sister to develop a number of New Year's resolutions that reflect the year. Last year we were at their home for New Year's finally saying good-bye to that terrible year of 2020 and excitedly anticipating 2021, a year of no Covid and a new democratic president. She invited me to develop twenty-one resolutions along with her. I have no idea where I put that list, and I am sure that the hopefulness reflected in those resolutions was not fully realized (absolutely sure given how 2021 turned out). But looking back on them isn't the point, is it? Having the sincere optimism to create them is the point. Continuing to drive that shuttle through the warped threads of the life loom with the belief that strong cloth will be woven and that mistakes will be accepted as part of the beauty, that is the point.
As I sit in the den of my new home in Virginia, often missing my old home in California, I am often most content when I am weaving while I watch an episode of "The Great British Baking Show". I have so little free time now since I took a job to stave off the loneliness that comes from lack of community through a pandemic and a cross country move. I miss that free time yet I now feel so grateful for those hours that are just mine as they feel so dear. As I sit in my den writing this post, my final "Welcome to Lala Land" post, I am overcome with feeling. So many small things put together to make this one very lucky life. You are the repeating threads in the worn and enduring fabric of my life. You have helped me create the beauty and the strong weave, and I thank you for going along in this journey with me. You have no idea what it has meant. Here is to 2022. I remain hopeful.
With love and gratitude,
Terese
