A Place To Hang Your Hat

In life, I wear many hats.

I’m a mother first and foremost. I take care of my son and I do everything in my power to make sure he is fed, washed, clothed and has a roof over his head.

After that a variety of roles vie for the next spot. I’m a daughter, an employee and a sister. I’m a friend, a best friend and even a little bit of a more-than-friends friend.

I guess I’ll add to that a runner though I’m more specifically a racer since the only time I put on my running shoes is when I’m wearing a number and standing at the starting line of a race.

All these hats can be daunting to juggle and at times I have to pick and choose which to wear and which to hang up.

I have many creative hats. I’m a writer, a poet, a cook and a quilter. As I’ve grown and learned more about myself, my creative hats are not ones I can wear at the same time as another.

If I’m wearing my dashing writers hat, that’s the only one that fits at the time. So I hang up my kitchen hat, my dancing hat and my quilter hat. They hang neatly, waiting their turn to be worn.

The length of time I spend in one capacity over the others isn’t set in stone. It depends on how long the feeling lasts. If my creative juices for cooking continue to flow, then in the kitchen you will find me.

It’s been six months since I’ve picked up my quilters hat. The layers of dust have collected and I’m not sure if I’m ready to put it back on.

While I miss the creative aspect of color matching, piecing and finishing a quilt, I don’t miss the mess, the cutting and the frustration when a blanket is riddled with mistakes.

Perfectionist hat? Yeah, that one never comes off.

But the pull to look at bundles of material all arranged in beautiful mixtures of patterns and hues is getting stronger. The need to slice through some cloth as it lays on my cutting board pressing into my shaggy carpet calls to me. I can feel the tug of putting my hands to work on a long overdue quilt yanking at my idle hands.

I’ve dusted off the hat but I have yet to put it on. I’m not ready yet. But I can feel it. I am almost ready to start quilting again…

Maybe next week…

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