December has been grey and wet so far, like we're trapped in a bad mood. Reed, from a Twitter group chat I belong to, came to visit last weekend. The bad mood lifted. He stayed at Katie's beautiful house up the street. She's also in the group chat, the voice of compassion and intelligence. People treat her like a mother and a search engine. She was on Jeopardy. We watched soccer during the day, hung out on sofas at night, ate pie I made, and tried to convince Reed to move here. What could we offer except that he would never be lonely? All mid-sized cities rush to the same middle. You'd like it here, we promise, because here is just like anywhere else.
Josh bought us a good used car at the end of September, but there's nowhere to go right now. It's my busy season. I made 40 pies during Thanksgiving week. I'm making 25 more for Christmas. I can't stop my hands from moving. My friends are having babies, so I've been knitting again. And I look for more excuses to knit. A couple weeks ago, I knit a sweater to my own measurements. It fit perfectly, but I knew it wasn't meant for me. I gave it to Shawn. He hasn't taken it off since. All my interests are pinned to a slowly moving wheel. I'm driving again, I buy toys with my spare cash, and I knit like there's a gun to my head. The person I was 20 years ago is back for a season.
Maybe all this sounds like I'm sad. I'm not. I'm comfortable. Winter is supposed to be like this. I can't see beyond the borders of the snow globe because I keep shaking it. There's an unfinished Godzilla puzzle on the dining room table. Josh, Shawn, and I started it a few weeks ago. We're waiting on a snow day to finish it, except all we've had is rain. We push the pieces to the end of the table so we can eat dinner together.
I'm drawing, too. Still drawing. Always drawing. I try to give my thoughts a place to live that isn't the forefront of my mind. Then I get on social media and beg people to take them from me. And they do! They share how they've framed them and where they hang in their houses. I see how far I've traveled even when I've gone nowhere at all. Shawn asked if I ever get cold in my studio, which is a closet attached to my bedroom. The answer is no. It's the opposite. The cold can’t touch me there.