Goldie Garland

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I had a little ball of yarn and a hook that did not make it into a box yet, so I’m crocheting a garland of Solomon’s knots, a chain stitch my grandma Goldie taught me when I was just a young girl.

I should be packing like a crazy woman, but oh well… I’m not working on a Sunday. That’s my excuse, or it was, as it is now officially Monday.  I just updated my previous post with a YouTube video so now I have “Blue on Black” stuck in my head.

Amazingly, I have listened to more music this year than I have in ten, thanks to that little Blue Tiger sound pod, a Pandora Radio app on my cell phone, and Spotify on the tablet.

 

MONDAY: once again, I start a post and finish later.

The lyrics, “Blue on black, tears on a river, push on a shove, it don’t mean much. Joker on jack, match on a fire, cold on ice, a dead man’s touch. Whisper on a scream, doesn’t change a thing, don’t bring you back, blue on black” ring especially true this year.

I have whispered on silent screams and cried tears on rivers of grief.  Too many friends, relatives, former classmates, acquaintances, neighbors, and even my cat have died. It seems like an Angel of Death has been harvesting from my neck of the woods over the last year or so and it is not over yet. Just yesterday, on 9-11, a massive stroke claimed a dear friend’s sister.

The Goldie Garland is appropriate because I’m doing a quiet memorial, blended in, on a Christmas tree this year. That’s what the clay drop ornaments are for… no, I’m not making one per person, I just cut out a bunch… didn’t count them. Bit morbid? Nah… just acknowledging the grief that lingers and infiltrates everything without suffocating anything, if that makes sense. People live and laugh and breathe and die… that’s life. I want to remember those I had the privilege of meeting, of sharing time when our paths crossed, to smile over the memories. I want to celebrate the lives they lived and not get bogged down because they died.

Thanks for reading!

 

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