Buttons and camels

The boys ran in with arms full of mail, dumping a shower of catalogs and letters onto me. Among them was a brown envelope from Canada. Sarah sent a little hand-knit vest for the impending baby, who has been contentedly stretching small feet into my ribs and making no signs of exit.

I love the little garment so much. The boys laid it on my belly and made d'awwwws over the little buttons.

I'm a bad snail-mail friend, having temporarily relinquished my income and being unable to reciprocate. But in this past hard year the packages and letters have come, flying in from Ontario and Santa Cruz and Bakersfield, and I feel so loved and ineptly grateful. I'm gathering myself, everything is falling into place in increments, and I'll be back up and sending good things back out into the world soon.

Robotaday recently sent a box of lung-friendly fiber, with a spindle and alpaca fleece so exciting that I haven't dared try them yet. I read articles about spinning and look at them greedily, waiting for the day I can sit outside with a tall cold beer and uninterrupted hours to make a studious attempt. Kids play. Babies sleep. It will happen. In the meantime, I wound the skein of camel and silk she had tucked into the box, and freestyled a small Lothlorien pullover. The baby stretched and still refused to come out.

I am feeling slow and quiet and anxious in these long last days, but I'm here.