Things are getting fuzzy in our neck of the woods. The bare branches that have scratched like long fingers across the winter skies are softening up. Their outlines are no longer in sharp focus. The greening leaf buds are blurring the edges and coloring our views.
My mother, born on the first day of spring, was reborn into heaven in the spring fifteen years ago. If someone had asked me what day my mother passed away, I’d have said April 13. But I was a little fuzzy on the exact date – it was actually April 14, 2003. Yet I am clear about so many other details of her influence – her love and encouragement, her creativity, her sense of style, her housekeeping and financial habits, and her uplifting ways – all those linger still.
I wrote every day through the whole month of the March Slice of Life Story Challenge again this year, something I began in 2012. I haven’t been writing daily this month, and my writing brain is already becoming a bit fuzzy. I am slipping away from the fulfilling activities of noticing, pondering, evaluating, and wordsmithing that I was beginning to develop. And I feel like something is missing from the core of who I want to be. Fortunately I know how to get back on that path.
We began a remodeling project at our home last week, with the hoped-for end result a new kitchen, bath, stair railing, deck, and wood floor stain. Before the new can come in, the old must go out. I am already a bit fuzzy on how our old kitchen looked, but I look forward to the new spaces with a concentrated clear vision.
We recognize fuzzy because we also know what is clear. Here’s to shaking out the cobwebs and gaining new insights along the way.