In January, I was supposed to move in with two of my best friends. I was going to live in a lovely little house on Browning. I was very excited. But, then as I started packing my things in the grandma house—I was struck with incapacity. I couldn't do it. All I could do was sleep. Suddenly, I had this just weird knowledge that I wasn't supposed to move out of my neighborhood—I had to stay and interview everyone in the ward. Or that had to be my goal. And I had to look at it as a job.
But then, miraculously, an apartment opened up in my neighborhood, and then suddenly, I had energy to pack.
I don't really have time to do this project, but since, I felt so strangely compelled, I've tried to get a few interviews in so far.
They are amazing.
Tonight, I talked with a woman who had her 8th baby when she was 47 years old. There was 8 years between her 7th & 8th child! She said it was her easiest pregnancy! She said she had her first baby on one of the islands in Hawaii because she and her husband were called on a mission there when she was only 21! She told me she and her husband lived in a shack when she was pregnant and that she learned to only put her hands where she could see the surfaces because the cane spiders were so gigantic and sneaky they liked to hide behind cupboard doors and on the backs of chairs and on the front of cupboard doors. They were as big has her hand sometimes.
At one point she looked at me, she was telling me something about Hawaii, and she said: "You can't forget, this was sixty-five years ago..."
I don't know why I love that sentence so much.