Well, I'm not going to do that today.
Here's an old bulletin board that I beautified with a piece of fabric and a whooole lot of matte Modge-Podge.
That's it. Tired punctured cork surface made pretty and functional with cotton and glue. I got the idea off the internet, wondered if it'd work, tried it, and it did! The end. See ya later!
Ooh, but one thing I can't help you out with: that adorable calendar. Sure, you could buy your own. I could have bought my own. But that calendar is a gift from a dear friend, celebrating hopes and dreams, realized and unrealized. You can't just put something like this in a virtual shopping cart and click "buy now."
But, I'm guessing if you still read blogs, you know that great friendships take time. You probably also feel like time seems in shorter supply with every passing day. As I have written before, we experience time in a relative manner. If it seems like each year passes more quickly than the year before it, well, it kind of does, as far as your brain is concerned.
That phenomenon plus my case of late onset ambition (teachering and studenting) have made the last two years feel jam-packed; even though global pandemic resulted in the closure of most things. Usual compartments enforced by a school and work schedules once defined my time. With that structure in place, I was able to accomplish a large variety of things everyday.
After the Utter Collapse of Everything, the names of days and hours mattered less, the walls between everything faded. All of the works in progress melted into a big urgent messy pool. Suddenly, I couldn't ever rest, because resting resulted in a gnawing feeling that something important was not being done. I went almost nowhere this year, but have been running nonstop.
Something changed that, sometimes. Every time.
Or, I should say, someone.
She changes everything, that's just what she does.
She's my friend, and I've written about her before. I used to spend nearly everyday with her.
I also used to think the disease she has would be the reason we'd hang out less. Instead, our daily shenannigans were halted by a disease I hope neither of us gets. Our last school year was cut short, and this school year felt so weird without her little hands in mine. Her tugs and pulls toward interesting people and things. Her musical magic. Her insistence on right now mattering more than anything else.
You couldn't argue with that, and you never wanted to.
Though our Anntics were less frequent, her family and I stayed determined, and regular hangouts happened anyway.
2020's obligations enveloped one another and crowded my mind, but my time with her felt spacious and still, even when we were raising a ruckus.
All the swirling worries stay at bay for the length of a book and a song. Guilt not only doesn't gnaw, it is nowhere to be found.
During those startlingly peaceful moments, I know without a doubt,
This is what I should be doing now.
This morning, I felt all excited. 2020 has been extraordinarily difficult and is coming to an end, sure. And yeah, the Modge-Podge I smeared all over my bulletin board dried and it looked great. Works well, yada yada yada.
But what had me really looking forward to today was my new calendar. I snipped the cellophane packaging, slid it out onto my bed, flipped it open to January and marked my first appointment before pinning it up.
2021 is off to a great start already.
(all of the beautiful photos of Anni and me are the work of Xiomara Gard, of Imago Dei Photography)
