Building Home: Dec 8 - Solstice, One Year Later

So what happened after December 8th last year?

It's December 23rd, 2014, and I just sat down to finish the adventing that I started last year. Got reading the entries of November and December, marveling at how much we were accomplishing each day. How did we do it?

Most astonishing is my inability to remember the details until I read my daily entries. Then it all comes back. So grateful that I kept up with the blog, so I'll have the prompts to remember this energetic feat, this massive and demanding project that culminated in our warm, sunny, beautiful home.

True to my memory's pattern, I don't recall the details of the days. I remember the constancy, the unending details to be solved. The focus and mania that comes with impending Deadline. And I remember the call from Kenny, when he said that he wanted to sponsor a button blanket for Neal for his 50th birthday. It never rains, but it pours, you say? Deluge, more like.

In the big picture, this was a project to delight in. How many of us get to work with friends to design and sew a ceremonial blanket for their partners?

In the December picture, part of me shuddered at the thought of adding yet another project. There is a peculiar and distinctive feeling of stretching, of thinness, when the limits of your stamina are tested.

While Neal skated and pounded out the house, I stole away four or five times that month, drinking tea at Kenny's, talking symbols. Unbelievably, we kept it a secret until the "mbira party" that Patrick hosted. Cosmos - Neal - was oblivious that it was all for him until the circle formed, and Kenny stepped in front of him with an open journal. "What's happening?" Neal said.

Neal was receiving his Flicker blanket, that's what.

The other marker in my memory is Solstice. Literally days before Sonja was to fly in, the community gathers for two days of winter Solstice celebration. Neal packed up the truck with food and warm clothes, and went to join them.

I couldn't leave the house. It was ready. Neal had busted out the punch list, and a mad sucking sound followed his tools out of the house. It was ready, but every surface was covered with construction dust. I stayed at home, and spent three entire days wiping every inch of the house.

It was easier than I expected, and more extensive than I could have dreamed. Easier, because it wasn't really dirty. It was just dusty. No cooking grease or woodstove ash. Nothing from people. Just dust dust dust on everything. I wiped it all. It was oddly grounding. Claiming, almost.