That has taken a lot of work.  But here I am, at that point in my life where I see both ends – the childhood long past, and the finite end toward which we all move.  Not that I see the end, of course not.  Far off, I hope, not yet in view.  But at 50, I no longer believe in my own invincibility, and I understand that for each of us, time is a finite quantity.

I want to make the most of it.

I’ve done that in the past, but only in fits and spurts.  Being a full-time, stay-at-home mom was my greatest achievement, watching my two daughters become the most amazing people I know.  But they are old enough now not to need me for all those daily tasks I could lose myself doing.  I finished a return trip to school, then found and ultimately lost a job.  For the last several months, I’ve found myself too often distracted, mired in unproductive lethargy by thoughts that race and careen around my brain with seemingly little purpose. Frustrating, sometimes even agonizing.

So I choose to move forward.

The one place I find myself calm and productive is lost in my wires and beads.  When I curl a piece of wire, curling and smoothing and shaping and letting my fingers guide it to its new shape, I feel . . . peaceful.  Which, in turn, energizes me, and I find myself more functional around the house, able to write and get done what needs to be done.

I’m going to track my progress here, blogging my adventures with curls.