|Gifted cloth transformed|
Then I started thinking about how I feel these fraught days when online friends go "missing". A vague ache that pushes me further away from from imaginary realm.
A whole day spent stitching to music. High as a kite on last year's harvest was capped in miraculous fashion by Hamilton. I hardly have words to describe it. On reflection, I realize part of my intense emotional responses, rivers of tears both bereft and joyful, were about how much Jimmy would have loved it.
There have been gifts and letters in the mail and I very frustrated by not being willing/able to go to the post office. I need to find a way. Putting Colin at risk by having him do all the grocery shopping is bad enough.
Georgia, along with the rest of the South is a pesthole. We circle our wagons masking and handwashing like starving raccoons.