After reading Fiona’s post describing the making of her banner for Mo’s project (“I Dream of a World Where Love is the Answer), I decided I wanted my own embroidered “love”. So I stitched the word on a strip of walnut-dyed cloth just below an appliquéd heart. It seemed a good spot.
Have you noticed how often typing on a phone that one mistakenly types ‘live’ when one means ‘love’ or ‘love’ when one means ‘live’?
The quirks of a teeny iphone keyboard dishing up a philosophical message is emblematic of our age — for what is life without love?
To live is to love. To love is to live.
If one is loving, of course.
We were out of town this weekend and I got to witness the tender care my sister-in-law gave her 91 year old father. Did he need anything? Could she read his cards to him? Didn’t he look sharp in yellow and how about walking down the hall a little ways? I reflected on how my manner with my sister in no way approaches such soft, tenderness; how I could NEVER get her to walk down the hall a little ways; how impatient and defended I can be.
There are lots of reasons for the differences, reasons both exonerating and out of my control, but the weekend felt like an object lesson anyway.
Because it was also Kentucky Derby weekend, the guys made mint juleps.
The visits are always short these days and all the more precious for being so.