Sarah (left): One of my earliest happy memories is of my grandma's hands: gently tracing lines on my back and rustling the hair behind my ears slowly as I fell asleep. I relate those memories with primal feelings of safety, comfort, peace. Before I even knew what those things were, I felt them in her touch. My grandma's hands are her maps, lines forming roadways and paths that illustrate where she's journeyed, and how long she's travelled. She shares them lovingly with us, her grandchildren and now with my daughters. Summer, (who is named after her), has been held by those same hands that survived the Great Depression, raised two babies, handled money for the bank, held her passport while she travelled widely, clasped her husband's hands until he died, gardened, and stroked my sleepy head as a girl. Grandma's hands continue to bake and cook for my family, hold my babies while I attend to other matters, pour my tea at the end of the day. My girls too are learning her hand's geography, the ways of their gentle touch.
Johanna (right): Being back in Ottawa with family has been good for us. If nothing else, just being around the ones that we love (and who love us), is good for our souls. One particular family member who we've enjoyed spending our time with is Meeka, the family dog.Growing up, I had a wonderful dog named Susie, who Meeka reminds me of. She was gentle and smart and patient with us. While here, I've been taking the time to get my cuddles in with Meeka, and so have the children. I think the relationship between dogs and humans can be so real and bare. It's been nice to have that kind of connection once again.
In this picture, I can see the love that Katia has for Meeka. Her hand gently touching Meeka's soft and curly fur. Their sizes, comparable to each other. The pure love and connection that they have for each other. I often find Katia or Noah softly petting Meeka and I know that it is rewarding for both parties involved. So the question is ... how long till we add "one more" to our family?
The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).
Johanna writes here.