I blinked and 25 years has passed from a day that marked a sort of unraveling of the stable world we knew. I know there were years that dragged on and felt like eternity as we struggled to pull our kids through. But here we are and it feels like almost no time has passed. The loss of a sense of time is partly due to this disconnected post-modern world we have created. So even though we have 5 amazing new humans in our immediate family I still can’t quite wrap my mind around how blurry time feels these days. The oldest is the same age our youngest was when 9-11 happened. I knitted her a hat for her birthday and have promised to take her to Gather Here to pick out a pattern and fabric for her to sew.
I miss my mom. That day I remember driving to get her Apples from Hutchins (an Organic Farm in Concord). She had had some medical procedure that morning, which was a good thing because she was “out of it” when the news broke and did not get frantic about her brother who was a pilot for United and scheduled to fly to the West Coast right after the planes were hijacked.
The following day to avoid the news cycle I went to Lindentree Farm where others had also gathered and we sat quietly cleaning garlic for storage. I thought about that yesterday as I weeded a row of collards before doing CSA distribution at Clark Farm and listened to Altus Band (our youngest son’s band)’s album Mythos. One thing I love about being on farms is how connected I feel to the seasons and time.
The state of the planet and the world weigh heavy on me. When I think back on that day the dread and fear I had then is nothing compared to the fear I have now about AI, Climate, Genocide and Fascism. And as always when I am stressed I fold modular origami structures and knit and read fiction. Being at the farm on Wednesday is nice because it has me doing physical work rather than being hunched over folding. My heart aches for what has happened in the past 25 years. There were so many missed opportunities to turn the world into a better place.
On Wednesday a little boy rested his hand on me. He was so happy because I showed him the pouches of pollen on the legs of the foraging bees in the flowers by the barn. My husband, son, daughter-in-law and their two kids watched with amazement as two butterflies broke out of their cocoons this weekend. My eldest granddaughter lost her 6th baby tooth and drew a wonderful map of her mouth with adult and baby teeth coded. The world is still full of wonder despite all the crap. And the grandkids hugs are magical cures for my depression. I felt a warm embrace this birthday and I know time is moving forward despite how blurry it all feels.