There’s something very special
About walking out your front door
And seeing this.
As a woman who used to quilt and taught quilting,
With a daughter who makes quilts
And a quilting friend who just paid
Her annual visit, and took me
On a fabric shopping spree,
And gave me one of her quilts,
The serendipity of this — a stranger’s choice
To build a photograph — seemed enormous.
It amazes me at times, how often
Coincidences like these seem to occur:
I find them somehow very reassuring—
Like those instances of deja-vu,
A gentle indicator that I’m where I’m meant to be...
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