10-3 Soothing Rituals

I can settle my mind by thinking of all the things I have learned.

I calm my breathing. I relax the muscles in my chest and abdomen, clenched tight and smothering me.

I think back to who I was when I was a skinny, nervous child. My grandmother showing me how to press dough into the flour on the table while I pretended, half-heartedly, to watch.

I was not a girl who would Do Things. I scoffed at doing things.

When my grandmother died, I lost those things. So much fell away with her. Things she had tried to pass onto me, and I had scoffed. I lost that connection to her. I had lost my chance.

They made fun of me for the way I cut apples, but I persisted. I made crumble and crisps. I leaned painstakingly over the counters and I sliced through the resistant skins. The finished products looked ridiculous, but people ate them. In the back of my throat and nose I could sense her there with me when I did these things. When I tried to cross the bridge I had neglected. When I cook now, aptly and always swallowed with happiness, I still feel her.

I think of when I was smaller and the basement smelled like wood and laundry, and my father would work with tools I didn't know the names of, but, as an adult, I still recognized. He would let me hammer scrap wood together with nails sometimes.

When the wood burns or the dust floats in the air, I remember the few times my father was patient with me, and when he gave me freedom to experiment. The haphazard items I would make with splintered pieces of wood, mere hints of tables and sorry mimics of shelves. The duck decoys in the basement that scared and fascinated me. The forbidden enjoyment of being allowed in his shop (accompanied). The delicious way the wood smells.

When my fingers move over the fabric, I think of how my mother used to make things, and the whirring of her machine.

I took pride in being the girl who Does Not Do Stuff for so long, but it bubbled up in me. I make things now and I connect to my past. I am capable. I am brave. I feel them behind me, ghosts and memories, and I feel supported.

When I am scared, I close my eyes and think of all the things I have learned this year - things I taught myself. If I have done so much so quickly, what can't I do?