tremblant

I could possibly be Doing Too Much because my left arm is shaky from the upper bits down. No clue how/why. No matter.

Fetched myself a gold-tipped paint pen + put it to good use. Looking forward to trying out the opaque white ditto.

Mum is going to have to help me sort through Pat’s closets and decide which will be consignment and which will go to the shelter. It’s something she’d have liked, her clothes going to women in need. She lived her life loving and helping people. Chuck has some cracking stories about the way she did it, too. I picture her taking the nineteen-seventies by storm.

(You see, she was always there next door until she wasn’t any longer. It was okay not seeing her quite so often because she was there, and we knew we could visit when we liked. Now that’s not possible.)

She was so humble. I had to read her obituary to find out she was also very far advanced in the kinds of things I want to do. She never said. She never said not once that she could walk in and demand a job and get it, and that they’d hand her a raise to double her salary if she pleased. She was quiet like that. She knew how to make things happen. She just didn’t make a big deal of it. I imagine it was just something else about herself. People make the biggest deals about the smallest things, the things we think don’t matter. To each other, I have learned, we are phenomenal. To ourselves, we are just ourselves.

I am going to send the handprint CD art, the one that now has a golden lotus in the palm of the hand, off to Hilary McKay with a fan letter written on the shiny side. Possibly also in gold. I wonder if anyone else has found her creativity unlocked by the Cassons?

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