Stitch by stitch my hands keep busy as my brain swirls the details. Boxes packed and taped tight with little hands applying stickers for relocation. Friends process while eating queso and we speak few of our thoughts; others are too much and not fair. Stitch by stitch until finally my head accepts the comfort of a pillow and then a sharp ring in the night announces something else is wrong. A broken car eases home and daughter tearfully expresses once again how much she's lost this year. Then yet another calls to celebrate an engagement. We balance both precariously as one grieves and another glows. Stitch by stitch my hands are busy as my brain swirls details. Can my health keep up with my job? Is there something else fulfilling for me to do? And as we consider, insurance denies a needed procedure and still my hands stitch. Migraines invade regularly and the exhaustion is heavy. A car has died leaving us once again juggling schedules and browsing for another large purchase no one wants. Stitch by stitch during a quiet morning, things started to feel settled when a box being carried by the one who provides announced he was no longer needed in the office he loved. Stitch by stitch this began as a scarf to warm a cold friend and ended up being necessary therapy.
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