A return to creativity came in the form of a cake.
I've struggled since my dad's death to find my creative footing. Tasks that should have been performed by muscle memory were impossible. Needle and thread offered no consolation. My muse was silent. My creativity, vanished.
I've been careful not to set a limit on my grief, not to rush myself, trying not to grow impatient with the parts of me missing.
Though I'm still grieving (and always will, I suspect), it was the task of making my daughter's birthday cake that lit a spark inside me. Her birthday is Christmas Eve, and being determined to make her birthday special and separate, I always commit to making a special cake, per her specific demands.
This year it was a stump.
As I sat down with fondant and chocolate bark and nilla wafers I felt...excited. The task was fun and my hands did it easily (not quickly, though. I'm a slow cake-maker). I was creating! It wasn't wool, but it was creativity nonetheless.
So with that spark lit, I'm scheduling a workshop, ordering some wool, and dusting the cobwebs out of my workspace. I'm being careful not to set high expectations for myself, but I'm eager to dip my toe back into creative waters.
For those that are local, please check out my pincushion class being offered at The Crossing Arts Alliance. Time will tell what comes next.
And most importantly, for all of you who left me a comment (I read every one, even though they aren't posted) about my dad's passing, or sent me an email, or who held me in your thoughts, thank you. It is an amazing thing to feel so much good in the world when you're utterly convinced there isn't any.
I am grateful for you.