Today, I made myself get out of bed and then made the bed. I made coffee and scrambled eggs. I made a study guide for tomorrow’s exam. I made lunch and a nest of blankets for the cat to burrow in, away from the cold. I made butternut squash tacos and a mess in the kitchen, which I promptly cleaned up.
Today’s #Reverb10 prompt asks, “Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?” It definitely threw me for a loop.
I make things every single day, but they’re not necessarily tangible, inedible items that I can point to and say, “I made that.” (Though I did build some bookcases.)
But over any given period of time, I do indeed make lots of things.
I make music, singing in the shower or vacuuming.
I make plans for tonight, next week, next month and the next generation, fully aware that plans are made to be broken.
I make new friends and acquaintances. I (probably) make new enemies.
I make people laugh, sometimes unintentionally.
I make fire and ice, though I’m not sure which I favor.
I make decisions, sometimes too late.
I make money and progress and a life.
Because really, making is the same as doing. Think about how many phrases in English rely on “make” to make sense (ahem). In describing your day, you have to “make”time and room and other abstracts while you make a coffee run or photocopies.
And doing is a marvelous thing. In July, I blogged about the nirvana of doing, quoting Thomas Jefferson:
“Determine never to be idle. No person will have occasion to complain of the want of time who never loses any. It is wonderful how much may be done if we are always doing.”
So while I can’t show you a tea cosy or scarf I’ve recently made, I don’t feel at a loss for making. In fact, I think I’m going to make it after all.