When I was a child a cantankerous old woman lived in the tiny house at the end of the block. Her presence outside was seldom noted though she must have come out sometimes as she had the most beautiful flower beds. As children will, we who lived in the neighborhood would at times steal a blossom and then run swiftly away. Woe to those who were caught in the act. They received a proper dressing down and a threat that parents would be contacted, though they never were. These days I think of the old woman and I understand her because I have become her.
Wire wrapped jewelry was a passion of mine for a long time. I loved the meditative feel of coiling the wire, the sparkling stones, and could sit for hours working on a piece. There was a great sense of satisfaction when a piece turned out well and I sold a lot of my work too. Yet, I haven't made anything wonderful in ever so long. I miss it, but I can't seem to get back into it. Maybe some day, maybe not, just something else that has slipped away with the passage of time. Another loss.