Last night Eliina, Amanda and I worked on crafty projects for Eliina’s wedding this fall. I stamped little gift bags with pretty ink designs, and Amanda helped make tags for the place cards. Simple tasks, simple motions. I could see why people knit in knitting circles. Because with the motion of hands, and the hum of a distraction, an easy rhythm settles in. We’re all metronomes keeping time by the creation of pretty things.
We talked about time. Eliina pulled out her typewriter for one of the crafts and found a sheaf of pages in the typewriter case, saved from the days when we kept a ready typewriter on a shelf at all times. We paged back through the scattered phrases, stuff people had typed during parties, during quiet moments alone, or collaboratively and with much silliness. I’d been griping and complaining between ink stamps, the helpless kind of irrational chatter you can only get away with when you’re around old friends who will forgive you. But leafing through those pages unlocked a simple truth. Time passes. And all we can do is honor the moments that tick by, one by one, creating something pretty.