"She took the leap and built her wings on the way down."
KOBI YAMADA
I remembered what it was that made me come alive, the things I loved to do as a child. I knew more about who I was then than I do now. I loved to make things - paper, string, beads, buttons, needles and yarn - I wove them into some kind of usefulness. I loved words - I wove them too in the quiet places where I felt most at home. I also knew that I had a heart that was bent towards melancholy rather than merriment, that in a crowd it was the sad faces I was drawn to, the ones not laughing with their eyes. I ached for those who had to make impossible choices, who felt stuck between a rock and a hard place and whichever way they turned the losses were going to outweigh the gains.
Then I chose a career where I was the centre and tiny planets spun around me in a blur of light and noise. It wasn't wrong but it wasn't right either. I stepped away from it earlier this year. It all slowed down and I saw where I wanted most to be. Here at home with time for the ones I love and the weaving I used to do. And there, in a quiet room overlooking a garden where women come in with all the broken pieces of their hearts falling from their hands and I sit with them while they slowly piece them back together again.
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