Some background on the Idle Hands series.
In the last three and a half years I've had an unthinkable amount of loss. I think about hands ALOT. Violet's paws that could dig to sweet freedom outside the yard or could sit outstretched in front of her, dainty and proud- touching my leg while she snuggled me. Pandora’s hands (paws) that could bat glass bowls from the table and make dough balls on my shoulder as she lay wrapped around my neck purring. Mom’s hands that anguished and rubbed themselves raw but also flew like a zephyr over her knitting needles. In her last days she held mine all the time and told me I had golden hands. And Dads hands. Dads hands that built chicken coops and delicate glass things. Dads hands that gripped his walker and his knife and fork with equal determination. Dads hands that held mine in his last breath.
Idle Hands each hold something I need or that I’m trying to regain. The sacred heart eye is for hope; the anatomical heart is for strength in my body with the forget me not for strength in my brain; the Luna moth is for transformation as I know we aren’t built to live in unyielding grief; the bee is a token of love for my friends who repeatedly save my sanity; the love letter is to myself as a reminder that I’m worth my place here; and the Love Birds is for Dave, for making a point everyday to remind me that I’m loved.
This isn’t meant to be a bummer post. I’m grateful every day that I can move my body and have people to love. I’m grateful I am able to give myself the space to say yes to some projects because they give me an opportunity to grow or connect and say yes to my own projects because cutting glass saves my life. Over and over again. Still working on asking for help, but it’s something and some days that’s enough.
XO
