The Year of being Sixty two: to fight? to yield? to somehow embrace?
Sometimes your body gives you a reminder that you are getting older, a quick kick in the shins which you didn't see coming. I picked up my knitting the other day, as I do most days, for half an hour of quiet time. I don't see enough written about the meditative properties of knitting but for me the peaceful repetition and gradual creation of something beautiful under my hands is a quiet revelation. Not that day though. A deep pain developed in the base of my thumb every time I picked up the needles. I didn't believe it. I kept putting my knitting down and picking it up again as if a slightly different grip might make all the difference. It didn't. I suppose it is arthritis of some sort. Arthritis? What a nonsense. Arthritis is for old people. I can't possibly have arthritis. So for two weeks or so I have done no knitting, hoping that a rest will sort it out. I miss it, but along with the fact of missing ...