The cardigan wool sweater reeked of mothballs. I wore it anyway and let it air out on our walk. It reminded me A. She wore navy polyester dresses, nylons and patent leather pumps, black cat eyeglasses speckled with rhinestones, wrapped her shiny brown hair in curlers, spoke in German so we couldn’t decode her conversation, piped purple flowers on a white cake, hung the wash to dry next to the woods, taught us to play Parcheesi, said “bread and butter” when we circled a tree, fried foraged morels in butter, scrubbed cobber pots until they were shiny new, played old country songs I hadn’t yet learned the names of on the record player, stood in front of the picture windows with the light cascading all around her.
I’m giving this yearlong project a spin. Undoubtedly, I will fall and pick up again. Knowing this makes it easier. Still, I plan to show up to record a short photo and story of my day. You’re welcome to join me. I’d love it really. We can give each other high fives and geek out with a hashtag (#ayearofus), not because everyone is doing it, but because we’re doing it, together. Showing up every damn day to make this creative habit real.