The play I will be costuming next spring is about a girl lost in her own imagination. The plot leaps around like a white rabbit in a hurry, taking the reader, or in our case the viewer, on a chase with no geese. Some things explode in size while others shrink. That will be a challenge to portray, probably handled by the scenery and props rather than costumes. Which is a relief. 

It caught my attention when I read an online post about a child who was recently diagnosed with a syndrome of that name. It seems bizarre, but the afflicted person experiences a dramatic shift in their perception of size. Some things appear huge, while others are miniature. It's hard to visualize. 

The woman responding made an effort to connect the child's mother with other people facing it as well. There are closed Facebook pages for instance. It seems that being in the company of others in the same predicament brings both comfort and information. 

It can be pivotal to ally yourself with others who are in like circumstances. This month I have joined up with groups of writers, quilters, and other couples with the intention of supporting each other. The writer's retreat brought novel energy to my essays. The quilters' group infused a flurry of creativity to my piecing. Enjoying a cup of tea with another couple brought fresh attention to our marriage. 

One of the blessings of this kind of focus is the perspective it allows. I listened to a woman who feels like she is always rushing. Between work, motherhood, and home renovations she feels late, and nothing catches her up. I wanted to reassure her that this moment in time is just the right size. Neither absurdly large, nor too small to matter. But that is hard to hang on to when you are running from circumstances that threaten to take off your head.

Finding such a safe haven may seem impossible. But as the Hatter told Alice, that's "only if you believe it is".