Part of learning to live an artful life involves tapping into a part of me, that for a short time, died. Little things that used to bring me joy, seemed fruitless for awhile. I lost a part of myself that I was afraid I would never get back. But it is coming back. Slowly, and bit by bit.
Tradition is important to me, as is family. And I've always felt connected to the rituals of my childhood that sustained me even through rough times. Holidays were perfect examples. We were big into tradition: tree decorating, egg dying, and of course, pumpkin carving.
I take my pumpkin carving seriously. Okay fine, too seriously. I tend to be a bit of a perfectionist. (Who me? Never, ever.) I am working on simplicity. I'm getting there. But I felt a tremendous amount of joy because for the first time, in maybe, (11 years????) all three of my sisters were in a room carving a pumpkin. We had a few additions to our ritual. There was an adorable baby watching in awe, and an "Uncle" Dave carving a pumpkin with Shannon. But there was joy right along with the change. And yes, I did think of him. Shannon and I talked about a few of the pumpkin that Jaime had "created" over the years as he used to get into this family tradition right along beside me. But it was okay. I was okay. The pictures of the final product are courtesy of my brother in law. He is a much better photographer than I.