Nancy’s hands:

4 54 4

My hands:


I stitched today’s drawing while sitting in waiting rooms at Emory with my mother – the Center for Dizziness and Balance in the morning, and the Neck and Spine Center in the afternoon. (She is fine – going to take some cortisone and therapy for her neck and shoulder then later this year or maybe the first of next year, do some therapy for balance. She has pinched nerves and arthritis in her neck, and she grows more and more afraid of falling . . . which of course increases the likelihood of her falling.) Before stitching each drawing, I trace it with my finger, always intrigued and impressed with what Nancy has done. #54 has 4 pen strokes. I happened to have some pink thread in my bag, so I defined and delineated the 4 pen strokes in this one. I am in the process of adding the number of pen strokes to each post. I don’t know why it’s a big thing for me, but it is. A medical student who saw mother today – her name is Tate, not sure if that’s her first or last name – noticed me stitching and asked me about it. (That’s how I knew she is a student – she made eye contact, engaged with me, expressed curiosity, and listened to what I was saying.) I told her several things about Nancy, including how good she is with puzzles – how she puts them together without using the box top as a guide and can finish a 750-piece puzzle before I can get all the pieces turned right-side-up. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I don’t really know,” I told her, “I’m living a deep mystery. I can’t tell you why I’m doing it, only that it’s important. I only know I’m doing it because I can’t not do it.” When she heard that, Tate smiled and said, “So Nancy’s drawings are your puzzle.”


“Why do you paint? For the same reason I breathe.” e. e. cumming



She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.