You know what's really nice? Having a Sunday that's actually a day of rest. Yesterday morning I had hoped to sleep in, since I'd been playing Dungeons & Dragons at Christine's house until late, but I woke up at seven. It was cloudy and dark outside, and for a while I just enjoyed my quilt and the grey sky outside the window. Then I went up to the attic. You see, every year at Christmas School there's a silent auction of things people donate to raise money for scholarships for the next year. Last time I gave a bag I had woven on a picture frame loom, all in pink and white fuzzy yarn and ribbon and scraps of lace. It was very pretty, and it sold for $21. So this year I have a real loom I found at a yardsale, and I decided to weave a bigger bag in purple and blue. (I'd started another in pink and white again a few weeks ago, but I made the mistake of using cotton string as warp thread and couldn't think of a way to salvage it.) So after lying in bed for a while, it seemed very clear that the only thing to do was to take off the fist attempt and start again with the blue yarn. And I went up the stairs to the attic, which is my space and mine alone, and I began warping the loom. It's a strong thing, weaving. The fibers coming together and forming that good solid cloth is more important than you would think unitl you try it. There's something of undiluted power in it if you don't let your trivialities get in the way of your hands.

When I had finished warping the loom and woven the first little bit, I went down and got dressed. I drove Mom and my sister to their church, then continued downtown to the Quaker meeting. It was lovely, as always. I'd never realized how little spirituality there is in the Episcopal Church I loved for so long until I came to a place where the object is to find your own way to God, and not to recite the words that once had meaning for some other person. It's like the difference between getting a Hallmark card and getting a real letter from someone you love.

After I took Mom and Allison home again, I did homework and then started rewriting my college essay. Bridget called sometime in the afternoon to ask about college applications, and we got to chat for twenty minutes or so just like we did in the old days. We agreed it would be lovely if I got to go to Swarthmore or Bryn Mawr and she and her boyfriend both go to U Penn, so we can all still see each other.

After I'd written all I could force out of my brain, I took my shoes off and went for a walk in the dark. What I mistook for a garbage bag lying by the gutter turned out to be a little black cat that trotted at my heels for a half a block, so I sat down on the curb and let her climb into my lap. We stayed there for a long time, her purring and me stroking her ears while I told her all about the day and all the things I was confused about. Her long jet-black fur was well taken care of and she had a collar, so I know she belonged to somebody, but she seemed almost like a familiar come because she knew I needed someone to listen. And so after I had said all I needed to say, I walked home looking at the stars to write an email to Mark about how beautiful the night was and how autumn is my favorite season. One of the things I had realized in Friends Meeting that morning was that even though it's very difficult to be in love with a college student in Santa Fe when you're a high schooler in Virginia, he makes me happy. I wouldn't undo this even if I could.

After dinner I wove a little more and fell asleep listening to the CD of Shaker music Ellen sent me when we first started writing. It's plain, but it really is beautiful. And it was a beautiful day. What with one thing and another I'll probably never be able to have quiet Sundays like that every week, but it's definitely something I want to do regularly. A real day of rest is very different from a hour or so every day, and it's worth being busier the other six days.

October 2
October 25