Boomerang

11th December 2011 Sunday

Last night at my husband’s exhibition of his weird and wonderful creatures I talked to friend who is a very talented and prolific ceramicist. She said,

‘I just like making things.’ As if she didn’t have a choice about it - as if it was her reason for being. She also communicates her passion by teaching and inspiring other people to make things.

I’ve been thinking that the whole point if being creative - making a torso in clay, a bangle of beads, a table setting, a cake, a friendship or peace in a home - is to share it. Then the joy, like a boomerang flung into the blue sky of trust always comes spiraling back to you in the smile on the face of the other.

Tonight my husband made my father laugh. He said he’d tickle him to make him stand up from his chair. It still took him ages, the effort of lifting his granite weight exhausting him. As I kissed him goodbye outside the communal dining room he said,

“ Sorry about the bristles. Do you think they make beard softening cream?’

His imagination is still as wild as it always was - a kite dancing on a thermal.