Happy. Made my bed. Thought I was cured. Thought I had it all figured out. Lined the sides of my bed with dirty laundry stacked flat. Told the person I thought was in charge I was feeling better, I was ready to wash my clothes. She gleamed, smiled wonderful.

“Where’s the washer and dryer?” I asked.

“There isn’t one”

In front of me were piles and piles of dirty laundry. I tried to stay positive. I’ll wash them by hand.  Then I imagined my clothes crispy, cold. And damp. They would never dry outside on the first day of January.

Then I woke up. I emerged from my dream in deep thought.

The mood followed me up the hill, through the bramble branches. Silver shrubs, thick, curly, bare, poison oak vines. How could I have never seen those? Never noticed those piles of dead branches. The wind must have knocked them down. I walk past silver and green spots on the trail that never see sunlight this time of the year. Ravines and crevices in the hillside.

I stop for a moment. Remind myself to stop thinking. Stop worrying. I’m in a spot under a young Oak Tree. It feels like I’m surrounded by Robins. It’s beautiful and peaceful. I stand here for a few extra minutes before heading home.

I finally got in my studio today. It felt like an explosion happened. I had so much creativity to release. In previous days, during this holiday, when the kids are home from school. During warm cozy nights beside the Christmas tree. Watching the delights on my children’s faces as they play with new toys.

I noticed myself starting to slip away. I started to become withdrawn. I needed studio time. It could have become dire. But I made it to today, made it into my studio.