|thread - noun, verb|
1. a fine cord of flax, cotton, or other fibrous material spun out to considerable length.
2. twisted filaments or fibers of any kind used for sewing.
8. that which runs through the whole course of something, connecting successive parts
9. something conceived as being spun or continuously drawn out
12. to pass the end of a thread through the eye of (a needle).
13. to fix (beads, pearls, etc.) upon a thread that is passed through; string.
15. to make one's way through (a narrow passage, forest, crowd, etc.).
On my way back home, just a short stop at my parents' to say hi to the grandparents and important things like that. Leaving England was super sad. Sad in that really nice I'm-so-glad-I've-connected-so-strongly-to-so-many-lovely-people-that-it-breaks-my-heart-to-leave kind of way. And it's still sad. Sad in that what-am-I-doing-now kind of way.
At the same time it's exciting! Tomorrow I go home to my husband! My patient spouse who will now be presented the highly emotional, overly enthusiastic, bursting with creativity and falling apart of sadness bundle of feelings that is me. I wish him the best of luck with that. But this happy/sad/happy/sad tripping from ending this year has had me thinking about how connected I feel to people, things and places.
When I close my eyes I can see all the thin threads spinning out around me. One is rushing through an olive garden in Italy and from there to a lovely woman in Dublin . A silvery one connects every lemon in the world to a peaceful night in Morocco and the lovely ladies I shared it with. I feel threads running through books I've read, connecting to characters and fictional places. Most things run together in this huge cobweb of memories. The taste of cola flavoured lollipops connects through people and places and loops back to my best friend when I was 14. This is how I see the world. This is why I talk in stories, because everything I experience feels connected to everything else.
This year has filled in a lot of weak spots and woven much stronger connections. I feel like I did when I was young(er) and absolutely everything seemed to be shiny and magical in one way or another. Yesterday, while wasting time, I remembered constellations I didn't know I knew, and I remembered smells from when I was little and trying to learn how to knit. I remembered knitting so tightly that the needles had to be cut free, and all I was left with was a systematic knot of threads.
A very systematic knot indeed.