“Sometimes the separation between endings and beginnings is so small that they seem to run together like the ocean’s waves,” writes author Karen White in her new book “Sea Change.” Food for thought while knitting up an ocean-color staggered rib pattern shoulder cowl for my mother and contemplating patterns for a new baby. Life is a sea of changes.
Ebb and flow – from child to student to soaring and working to mother. Adjustment and growing more, doubling up, letting go to say hello. Juggle, gear down, learn to listen to that small still voice, and pay attention yet again. Shift and slow as my own mother ages. Live from the heart works magic. Then three falling episodes force a crucial decision. A surprise as her life re-blooms into a sweet gift of more time together. Change again from solo to duo. How about being a grandparent? Huh. Cast on and knit as anticipation of four generations together begins. Soon.
Sometimes endings are beginnings. That’s what came to mind while watching a twine needle wielded by Captain Charles Fellows as he repaired a fishing net on the town dock in Stonington to ready it for another day’s work catching summer fluke and sea bass in Long Island Sound.
Author Karen White: “Storms bring the detritus of other people’s lives into our own, a reminder that we are not alone, and of how truly insignificant we are. . . . As I rubbed my thumb over the smooth lip of the china cup, I thought of how someone’s loss had become my gain, of how the tide would roll in and out again as if nothing had changed, and how sometimes the separation between endings and beginnings is so small that they seem to run together like the ocean’s waves.”
A book worth reading; here’s a link to her Facebook page.
