Happy Thanksgiving!

I’ve been working on my talk coming up next month on Substack about Cloth Stories. I’ll share more about it and those projects involved, but wanted to write a quick post before tomorrow.

I was looking for pictures of Irene and me to add to part two of our story on Substack, which I’ll post next week, and I found this lined notepad sheet, yellowed by age, with an old poem penned by my sister Mari. She died last year, and even though she thanked me many times in those last years for being there for her, I still feel like I didn’t do enough.

But then in a box of tattered journals, and old letters I found this poem she wrote to me many years ago.

No one shares more heartaches,

Or castles built of gold and sand

Or tears

 

Maybe yesterdays

Were filled with petty differences

And useless quarreling

Over nothing

 

But still

A bond exists –

Yes, we’re different, you and I

And my way of life

Goes tumbling in a different wind

Than yours

 

And yet

In all my life

There could be no dearer friend

To understand

Than my sister.

I remember when I was going through her house after the funeral, I found a list of people to contact in case of an emergency. My contact information was first. Yes, I did what I could. She knew I loved her and was there for her.

As Thanksgiving approaches, I think of all those who have touched me with their love, laughter, and support. Many have gone home. I’ve expressed my thanks and appreciation in the past, but there is much more to say to those who have lightened up my path.

For those of you who I don’t know personally, thank you for reading my posts. I appreciate you. Happy Thanksgiving!