Wednesday, July 22, 2015

July, Day 11


Wednesday

I think I have mentioned “the time of great forgetting” earlier this summer.  The phrase comes from the writer Dean Wesley Smith.  During the months of summer, writers get so busy they forget to write.  Now, this has happened to me every summer for five years.  I was determined to break the cycle this year after my parents’ 50th anniversary.  (I knew nothing would get done before that.)  I have done well since I started the blogging challenge earlier this month.  The days I missed have been conscious due to either travel or family time.  Technically, I could say yesterday was a result of family time, but I intended to write.

I woke up plenty early, 3:30am.  I spent the next three and a half hours helping my husband with a project and reading during the down times.  I went for my daily morning walk with my neighbor and our dogs.  Once home, I should have worked on my morning pages; but I was distracted by the huge mess of my husband’s.  He tore apart our bedroom closet.  The next thing I knew, I needed to get to my physical therapy appointment.  Next, I had to clean the kitchen.  It was a disaster and my son annoyed me, so I took it out on the dishes.  At that point, I called for the daughter.  We drove into town (third time that day).  I promised her the Painted Pot.  We painted our pieces.  She picked a dragon and I picked a box with a flower on top.  The rest of the afternoon blew by with a doctor’s appointment, shopping, and dinner.  I ended the night with reorganizing and de-cluttering the closet.  My daughter and I read for our newly started thirty minutes of reading together, the son came home, and we chatted until bedtime.  The day ended and I hadn’t written a word, the great forgetting.

The ironic aspect of this entire story is that yesterday my cousin sent me a comic strip about a mouse writer that allowed herself to get distracted all day long, never getting to the page.  Well, the time right now is 5:29; I have an hour and a half before I meet the neighbor for our walk.  I have a zillion and one things to do today.  I will get this done and not forget!!!

 

Argora and Vilenok

Sunlight streamed into her bedroom window.  The side of Argora’s bed remained empty.  She wrinkled her nose in distaste.  The days grew long with her husband away, especially when the family responsibility fell to her to attend a burial celebration by herself.

Scrambling out of bed, she dressed in her gardening clothes after washing her face.  Birdsong filled the air as she left out the front door.  She enjoyed walking in the quiet of the day while most people remained in bed.  Once outside of the neighborhood, she walked along a nice curving path which followed a stream.  Swallows fluttered around and a duck floated on the water. 

Her thoughts tumbled around the coming events, the community’s farewell to a pleasant dwarf woman.  Argora thought of Kathina’s husband with no one to clean for him or make his dinners.  Their children still lived in the dwarf caverns, two days ride from their growing town.  She took a mental note to try to invite him to the family gatherings if he couldn’t make it back to his children.  The idea of him being alone, struck her heart like when a hammer missed the hot iron and bounced off the forge.

Turning around to head back home, she watched for wildflowers.  As she strolled along, she picked a variety of sunflowers and yellow columbine.  She left the red paint brush for a trip later in the week.  The yellow flowers would add some brightness to her bedroom while her husband worked the mining claim in the dwarf caverns.

As she finished up her walk, she thought of which outfit she wanted to wear.  At the last celebration she attended, the deceased requested to have their funeral more like the humans with everyone wearing black.  An ironic smile crossed her lips, her mood felt black. 

Rifling through her closet, she hung her violet-blue divided skirt next to her black one.  She draped the matching tunic over the blue and draped a grey tunic over the black.  A walnut box with four drawers stood on her dresser.  She pulled the gold handles of the middle drawer.  Picking up a thin gold chain with turquoise beads hanging from it, she put it with the grey and black outfit.  The colors fit her mood.

For the next hour, she weaved eight tiny braids from the hair on her forehead, pulling them back and securing them around four buns at the top of her head.  She plaited six braids on each side of her jaw bones from her beard.  Around each ear, she wrapped five of the braids up over the top.  The sixth she hung with the chain and clipped it to the bottom of her ear. Finally, she braided twenty medium sized braids from the bottom section of her hair with turquoise colored thread wrapped in them and netting that fell to her shoulder.  The finishing touch was a medallion of gold and turquoise she attached to the hair at her forehead. 

Looking in the mirror she nodded in satisfaction.  Her hair represented the ceremonial tradition of her people.  The turquoise held the power of healing and stress reduction.  Her appeal to Brokkr for Kathina’s family was healing of spirit during their time of loss.  She also prayed for the lack of stress due to the attendance of the different races to be minimal for the family.  Argora also hoped for no scenes with Vilenok and judgmental people.

She sighed.  The dwarf looking back at her looked old.  Lines surrounded her eyes.  Wondering when she started looking like her old mother, she felt aged, almost defeated.  But, Grogrim and the family needed her presence at the ceremony.  She had no reason to feel sorry for herself.  Puckering her lips, she added a silver color to her lips.  With her head held high, she left to collect Vilenok and travel to the ceremony.

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