Week 10 Theme

“Sha click, sha click” the sound resonates deep within her, a sound she’s heard before – experienced before – lived before; the wool slides between her fingers, her foot rises and falls on the pedal and the wheel spins.

Their hands joined, they formed a circle around the altar; a fire ablaze in the womb of the cauldron – Her womb, the magickal workings spread before them and they spun – chanting, singing and spinning their web.

Westward bound, Water spun her way clear off the island – into a hospital; a sickness so many now have. She collected her hair and secretly stashed it into a little brown box in the bottom of her closet. She sleeps.

They whirled into the night, the moon hidden behind a storm of clouds, the darkness stood outside their circle cast; Her lit belly lighting their way.

Northern lights guided Earth’s adventure far from their sacred space, as stability abandoned her; her husband faded into the past, her children graduated and moved-on, no place to call home – no place except the land where her herbs grow.

Heat rose and their hands vibrated with the intensity of the energy they created; no longer were they dizzy, their speed increased as they weaved in and out of this world.

Southern flames that once roared fiercely dull themselves to the strength of a barely lit candle as South sits at home, knits, zones and finds glimmers of comfort in the time she has left; her passions fading with her spirit.

An abrupt termination of the spinning, their web was complete, their cone erect and direction required; they released their hands and placed them above the altar – hovering, releasing, energizing. Harm to none, their will was done; their circle was opened.

Eastern breezes carried Air home that night; leaving her to crave the clasping of their hands once more. A delicate tune escapes her now as she travels into the years ahead; she finds herself visiting her dear elemental friends through spirit and feeling the loss of what is to never be again.

“Sha click, Sha scrape” the wool - over spun - pulls apart; she loses her footing on the pedal and the wheel comes to a halt.

Week 9 Theme

She stays up; her little ones are tucked snugly into their beds and she knits. Squinting her tired, dry eyes she counts her stitches and marks her rows; a simple acrylic wool blend sweater for her young daughter. Forty three, forty four, forty five…..approximately thirteen rounds to go till she marks off the arms.

Her hands are cramped from working the needles for so long and she hears her husbands alarm go off. He trudges into the dim room, sips his coffee and groans while he bends to lace up his work boots with cracked soles.

Christmas will be hard this year, one of their hardest ones yet. Their son asks Santa for a Wii – she feels sad, holds her daughter tighter to her hip and tucks her hair behind her ear, Santa winks at her and tells her little boy that the elves are working on something different – something special for him this year; the boy slides off Santa’s knee, takes her hand and they walk outside into the wet cold.