Thursday, November 5, 2020
There is a reason we met. Sharing a thought, a skill, the future buoyed us both.
I’m 87 she said. I don’t know how long I have. That was what kept her creating.
She gobbled up our shared books. We marveled at the shapes and colors. She always said her sister had a great sense for color but she did not.
Her tilted head and weary ears never stopped her moving fingers. The only time she became exasperated was when the yarn would become a jumble. We would sit together in her favorite spot in the quiet basement and work through the knots and twists. You are so good she would say. Not really. She inspired me to do good.
When last we met we talked stitches, yarn and what we would work on next. It was a small memorable talk that stays with me as I grieve her loss.
