I have things
that have been stitched
by the hands of
my children's great-great-great grandmother
and my adopted Nan from Newfoundland.
I hold them.
I touch them.
I wonder what they were thinking about
as they sat and worked away.
I wonder where they were sitting.
I wonder whether they enjoyed doing it
as much as I do.
Whether it was a respite from the
hard work of the day
or something to fill vacant hours.
that every single stitch
exists because of
I envision them,
infusing that creation
with their hours,
and their enduring love.