Susan LaffertyLittle stacks of memories. On the floor.
Newspaper clippings browned with age. Aerogramme letters, typed full-length and on the flaps. Magazine articles. Journal entries.
There’s no time to read every word.
So we glance. Skim. Scan for tidbits of life history.
And laugh over stories long forgotten.
People look at where you’ve been. Or where you’re headed. Noticing which trials have whipped or trudged through your life.
And then decide you’ve got unusual fortitude. Courage. Perseverance to endure.
“You’re so brave. I could never do that.”
I’m not so brave.
Colorful skeins of thread surround him. And neutral strings on the loom show no pattern to follow. As far as I can see.
But the old carpet maker knows.
Thread by thread. Hour by hour. Day by day.
He works the loom, creating a rich pattern. A map of threads he already had in mind when he started.
