I don’t know whose hands stitched this frayed beauty.
There is no name, no date, not even initials,
though there is definitely evidence of use,
and, as I choose to believe,
Now that I’m living squarely on the finite side of infinity,
I find myself wanting to create a tangible legacy
a way for the kids to remember me.
Having had no career
having become no expert
having received no honors
or gold watches,
these little Hymns of Cloth I stitch
seem of vital importance.
Maybe not to my children, though.
Making labels for each Hymn of Cloth
is on my list for 2015 anyway.
Just in case.
Wrap yourself in the story, imbued in the fiber and stitching you will feel the resonate love. How far back to the women of our line go? to the first mother! To every mother! to any one who loved and wrapped themselves in the fabric of that love…
throwing the tapestry of my loving around you and holding you close, and labeling it ” for always “