On Thursday Night
I sat in my studio this afternoon, catching up on paperwork and gridding a busy weekend into my planner. I could feel my shoulders rising to nearly touch my ears. I know my forehead creased with concern. Heavy thoughts. Creeping cold.
I heard the gathering storm downstairs. You, with all your creative ideas and grand plans for elaborate play. Your sister, with her own agenda. You kind of fell apart. You burst through my doors, earnest tears streaming down your face and big sobs sucking air from your lungs. Why did they not understand, you demanded. Why didn't they know that you saw this whole play scheme so clearly in your head? Whatever the reason, they didn't.
I glanced at the flannel stacked neatly on the shelf and remembered that I'd promised to sew with you today.
"Let's make something."
The clouds parted and your smile shone sunshine all over that room. You pinned intently. You sewed on the machine with utter glee. For the first time ever, you pressed the pedal all by yourself the whole time. And you filled your cozy with corn.
Tonight, you are tucked up in my bed with the work of your hands, claiming that you want to share its warmth with me.
We are both warmed.
Sweet dreams, sweet girl.