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notes in denim pockets

Each patch was stitched in love

and the material held stories, woven with blue threads

Deep within buttoned pockets

Mother and Daughter had hidden notes.

Pastel coloured and written with a dark pen.

Some said:

“I love you” with a heart for the O

and others told me to do things that would make me feel special

Rules were made

I must open a pocket a day

but like a child on Christmas morning I opened them all at once

and pinned them to my cork board

On days that I hid inside, locked in the prison of mind with tears running down making puddles on my pillow

I would count the notes

each was reason to keep going, to keep trying

I think when she made the quilt she knew

it had weight to it

that would keep me warm that awful cold winter

it had satin flowers and embroidered fairies that I would run my fingers along when I was too weak to open my eyes

Today I stumbled upon a photo, shoulders frail and fingers pale and wiry holding polka-dot mug

it all came back

they nights I lay in suffering on the bathroom floor

waiting for my father to lay me rest

selfish thoughts of satisfaction

Today I shed tears and reclaimed my quilt

hating the cold girl who used to lay beneath it, thinking only of herself

and not of the ones who mean most

I will never again be the cold hated girl

Tonight I say prayer for a woman lying in a hospice

her life is not her choice

but held to firmly by disease

a cancer eating her from the inside.

I know she keeps a smile on her face and has warm hugs to go around.

Thank you Lord, for a mother who sews quilts with love and prayers to girl in hospice, may she come to know you.

in the hush of the moon

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8 responses

  1. what a beautiful ode to love, friend… your words are passion and true in their brokenness.

    September 2, 2010 at 5:23 am

  2. sounds like a lot of love goes into and comes out of those quilts…nice. and i know the lady in hospice is definitely appreciating it…

    September 2, 2010 at 10:19 am

  3. when she made it she knew “it had weight to it.”

    and that is mama-love, that doesn’t need our appreciation of it — it just spills and spills and spills.

    prayers for your mama.

    September 2, 2010 at 4:15 pm

  4. this is quietly stunning. the love and the heartache for your mom, and even for the young cold girl. beautiful, poignant

    September 2, 2010 at 4:54 pm

  5. I love this.
    I love that the quilt had a weight to it, as this post does…and both are beautiful.

    September 2, 2010 at 6:53 pm

  6. oh, there is so much here.
    tender, powerful, love

    September 3, 2010 at 1:00 am

  7. A special kind of love and tribute, God bless those who serve in Hospice.

    Joanny

    September 3, 2010 at 2:07 am

  8. This is so touching. It is amazing the comfort that comes from something made especially for us with love. I am so glad that love found you.

    September 3, 2010 at 11:30 pm

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