So Many Plans

It's a slug.

Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans. My little sister's husband died. Really sad, devastating for her, and the first death in our generation of siblings. A sea change, a major shift.

And I was so busy working. I was already sure I would not accomplish all of the things on my list, but I thought I had a good chance at it. The calendar kept confusing me...that last week of June, what was it for? Would I find the time to print all of my stuff, the little gaps in my stock that ought to be filled, the new hats I planned and already needed more of, the hoodies I dyed? Would I do that special bag design that everyone would want to buy? I dyed all the bags, and have the design in my mind, fairly well worked out. I still have to iron that major stack of bags.

Most of my custom work is finished, with just five small jobs and one big job left to do. (Edit: this was last Tuesday.)  Most of those materials are here as of today, ready to print. Tomorrow, Thursday and Friday were open and those were the tasks I was set to accomplish. Two sets of overdue minutes still to type, something I should be doing right now as I monitor the washer as it agitates the purple hoodies. Then the time to finish my own projects and organize the many piles of stuff that go out to the site right after the Fourth of July.

But no, I am not going to be the person who doesn't go to the funeral because I had to work. I'm speculating about all the sales, all the money, all the pleased customers who please me in turn. That is all wishful thinking, put to the test by real life. I will fly to my sister's side as all of my instincts tell me to do, pack and go. Set things aside. She may not need me, but I am called to be a part of the family I have been part of for 65 years. That isn't something you set aside.

I'll get the custom work done. I'll work super hard tomorrow and maybe Thursday and get it all done, if not delivered. I'll jet away for the weekend and return with some days left to finish it up. If I go to Fair without a few things, no one will even know. I'll sell what I have, and catch up later with the other stuff. Maybe I'll take it the next year, or make a new plan for it. It doesn't matter.

 I don't have reservations yet and don't know if I can even get them, with Bach Festival and the Track Meet and all, but I will try, and if you don't see me at Market that is why. Life happened, one of the tough parts. I haven't even figured out how to grieve yet. I'm sure I'll get to that.

I wrote that last week and now I am back from it. I decided not to post it since I wasn't feeling grounded, but it still rings pretty true. I don't suppose I am grounded today either, but I flew 3000 miles and back and my house is the same and my piles of work are the same and my deadline is the same, and though I feel rather derailed I also had a giant dose of life/death/reality and that goes along with Fair anyway. The last time I saw my sisters was at Fair.

They all showed up, with my Mom and a brother and sister-in-law, for my son's wedding, which we held at the labyrinth on Friday of 2013. We sang for the rest of the day. Then just a couple of months ago my Mom and I jetted to Australia and back for my brother's wedding. Both of those were peak experiences with all the good feelings, while this one had some grim moments as you might imagine. Still, we siblings and Mom spent the day together, and it rained and rained and rained so much so that the whole main street of the Maryland town where my sister lives was flooded and out of electricity. At home people were begging for rain, and we had way too much. I felt confused.

I still do. I'm caught up on emails but I can't quite face the shop and the decisions I need to make. I have tomorrow and the rest of the week to make phone calls and excuses and get the rest of the work finished. I know how to do Fair. It has happened so many times I don't have to think that much about it. I will get back to Market on the Fourth and swelter and sell hats and I know I can do that without much thought as well. It will be okay if I am confused for awhile

.

I can sort out the emotions as they catch up to me. The good part is how present everyone was able to be. Say what you will about addictions and recoveries and religion and dogma and sin, there is a joy embedded in being in the moment and feeling the emotions as they come, without holding fear. I know there will be more deaths, but if they include spending the day watching the woods drenched with rain or sunbeams or birdsong, they will be bearable and learning will be gained. I saw fireflies. I lay in my childhood and teenage and post-teenage room and felt my old self, that young woman and girl who had so many thoughts and tears and laughs in that house, and I was still her. Yet, though I could feel her (seemingly) unloved self  with all her angst, I knew when I returned to my home where I feel love around me all of the time as my 65-year old self, I would be still present, even more so.

Ahh, this fulsomeness of summer. When I go, may I be this full, and may someone gently pick my blueberries and eat them one by one.