Regular readers may remember that back in June, my teenaged nephew came to live with us, from out of state. It was a desperation move, which seemed his only hope to overcome a heroin addiction. It's been difficult for everyone, most of all him, of course, but for my husband and me, too. We've all invested a lot into his sobriety. I blogged a lot less, for a long time; I also worked out less, gardened less, did less yoga, socializing, and even working. My energies were going elsewhere.
Then, slowly, things improved. He got a job, then a GED. He made some friends. He started talking about community college, in the fall. He was eight months clean.
I started to resume my old activities.
Last night, on a visit back home to his father, my nephew OD'd. He's okay - not damaged, anyway - and was released from the hospital this afternoon.
It seems we are back to Square One. I am heartbroken and discouraged and a little angry; but there's nothing to do but bring him back to Augusta where we can try again. He returns tomorrow.
I am in the studio tonight for solace and distraction. I may well wedge up these pots - if heartsickness makes for better artwork you couldn't prove it by me. But the activity itself, the hum of the wheel, the musty smell of the clay, the deep familiarity of the motions provides a comfort. Throwing occupies just enough of my mind to let me think without letting me think too much.