Fashioning Figures

Last night I came home after work. I was tired and I was achy. I needed to get in bed early and so I came home. My people were downstairs when I arrived, but soon after I came upstairs the house fell silent and I was alone. It was an empty, aching silence, and though I am fully aware the problem is mine, I remain overwhelmed by sadness if I let the emptiness take me by surprise. Being tired couldn't have helped.

Tonight, after a visit to the therapist's office, I made my way to the pottery studio for a bit of mud therapy. Although there wasn't much conversation, I wasn't alone. The shelf full of glazed work held a few treasures with my name on them, or at least my fingerprints. I was expecting to find my last sculptures, but was surprised once again by the presence of three small, speckled vessels.

I have "rescued" a couple of pieces from the box of discarded bisque-ware and broken pottery. They make fine sitting spots for molded figures whose feet dangle precariously over the edge.

It was a relaxing hour or so of fashioning figures and perching them atop unwanted pieces. Actually, the bottom piece may have been my own, but there was no signature on the bottom, just a penciled date telling when it came out of the kiln. It looks mighty fine with this fellow taking a rest on its turned up bottom, and I feel better knowing it's been put to good use. Playing in the mud is as great therapy now as it was when I was a very small girl with a stick, a mud puddle, and a friend.