The routine actions and small choices I make over and over weigh more collectively than any one grand defining moment. The rituals and routines I repeat form the patterns by which I navigate life. I wake up. I get dressed. I do my work. I get through the day.
I bind a cloth, weave a row, print a layer, stitch a line, tie a knot, snip a thread again and again. I create my work through the repetition of these small actions. I do not mark the hours spent. The history of my time is recorded in each individual step taken.
I can never count the number of stitches made, buttons fastened, or doses taken over my lifetime. I do what I must time after time, beating out a driving rhythm. Life goes by. History repeats itself. I tell my stories. I face my problems. I hold it all together so that I can do the same tomorrow.
I take a step back from the routine actions and small choices I make over and over so I can see what I have made. I see no end, I lost the beginning, but I continue. I go round and round, and I am whole.