Wounded!

This happens periodically and always at a most inconvenient time. I am having another flare-up of tendinitis in my right hand which makes life awkward, work painful, and knitting impossible. Over the years I’ve tried everything that was either recommended or that I thought would help but it boils down to one simple truth that I found on a tendinitis web site - when you get it, you are in for three weeks of pain. Period.

So this started on Saturday which means I have two and a half more weeks to go. I use an MSM spray, Blue Emu oil, a brace, and Advil but those are only temporary. Otherwise it just plain hurts.

The interesting thing is, however, that it forces me to live life a little differently than normal and we all can use an occasional shake up. Last night, instead of working or knitting or some other project involving my hands, I drove down to Marblehead which I don’t do often enough.

I lived in Marblehead for seven years. It is a pretty town with tiny, curious neighborhoods tucked in odd places. I still have friends there I do not see often enough and getting a chance to visit and catch up is a joy. I had a lovely evening and the added bonus of stopping at Trader Joe’s on the way home.

Sometimes I think about the different places I have lived in my life and what I left when I moved on. Of course, when you are about to move, you are just thinking about the adventure ahead and not what is being left behind. A few years back I went back to Sangerville, Maine for a wedding and was reminded - quite pointedly - that life goes on even when you have chosen a different path.

When I spent time in Sangerville, it was with my friend Michael and his daughter Ashleigh - in fact, it was her wedding that I went back for. Michael comes from a family like mine - large, close, amusingly dysfunctional, with lots of generations and lots of personalities. I really loved them and, when I went back to visit after several years away, was reminded that here, in this place, a couple hundred miles and several years removed, was a whole bunch of people who cared about me and were happy to have me back among them.

That’s a very special thing. It’s so easy to move on in life and not really look back. To forget that there are people you share a history with and who miss your presence in their lives. Last night when I stopped at my friend’s house in Marblehead she hugged me and we sat in her pretty, warm, familiar kitchen and talked over tea. “Do you still take milk and no sugar?” she asked. I was surprised she remembered.

When I lived in Marblehead, I was sitting a house that overlooked the ocean. From my bedroom window I could see three real lighthouses and one fake lighthouse (supposedly a lookout for Nazi submarines in World War II - I don’t know). As I lay in bed at night, the light from the Baker’s Island Lighthouse would sweep across my walls. I always left the drapes open so it would be there in the room with me all night long. Last night, sitting in my friend’s kitchen, I watched the familiar sweep of that light across her walls, too. I hadn’t noticed it when I lived near her but the same familiar pattern and timing, unchanged by the intervening years, went on. We had a good visit and I returned to Gloucester remembering that I am lucky.

Baker’s Island Light sweeps the coast night and day. My hand will heal. There are people I love and who love me. I will knit again soon. In the meantime there is much to rediscover.

Thanks for reading.