One old friend. Two sewing machines. Three knitting projects. A huge collective fabric stash. And a road trip to a cabin in the woods.
There was coffee and chai. Good food and nice wine. Sewing and knitting. There was quiet and conversation. And "oh-my-god-this-bag-only-took-me-an-hour!" exclamations. (Oh, the miracles of crafting without interruption.)
There was a walk in the woods. Along the river that gave my clan our name. To the spot where Pete and I were engaged some 13 years ago (both of us in chest waders and me soaked through) and then beneath the hemlocks where we were later married.
There was an auction. Aunt Lois's auction. It was bitter-sweet and I bought up embroidery stitched by her mother, my Great-Grandma Nellie and some other treasures I'll share with you some soon day. I stood beside my mom and watched as memory-steeped possessions left, box by box that grey morning. Letting go.
There was much remembering and sharing of family stories – new and old – and wondering what will ever bring me back to this little town where my family has lived for two generations now that Aunt is gone.
And then we returned to the river. To knit. To sew. To rest. To play.
Now I am home, steeped in gratitude. Appreciating Pete. Appreciating my kids. Appreciating home. And appreciating my made-it-in-just-one-hour bag. Appreciating making time for myself all weekend long.
I am blessed.