July 21st, 2005
Today I put on my favorite jean skirt that used to be my mother’s. It is a wide a-line shape from the 1970′s, and has large deep pockets on the front, perfect for holding your money, pieces of paper, or some candy. When I wear it I feel close to her because she wore the skirt a lot and I know she must have enjoyed walking along with her hands deep in the pockets, or collecting small stones as she strolled barefoot along the beach (which was quite a bit). You would only know this after wearing the skirt and walking around in it for a while.
I think it must be the most durable skirt that has ever been made because it shows no signs of wear, and I feel kind of invincible in it. Maybe it has protective qualities. Mom strength that she left for me as a gift. I haven’t been able to wear it until recently.
I rode my bike along the main street to do some errands, (this is the kind of skirt you can ride a bike in). When I passed my neighbor’s studio door I heard the distinct sound of a violin being played (he is a violin maker). I put my bike down quickly and tip-toed up to the door to listen. And I sat there listening and smiling for quite some time. This is one of the great gifts of knowing a violin maker, you get to hear beautiful music from time to time, drifting out onto the street. It stops me every time. When he finished playing I poked my head in the door to thank him.
Tonight I danced around my room in the skirt listening to Sarah Harmer.
My mom did a LOT of dancing around rooms in her lifetime.