Okay, this is going to sound weirdly morbid.
Whenever a group of us quilters are together, we are always picking threads off of each others’ clothing. Am I right? (And why am I always wearing black when I’m sewing with light-colored thread?) Anyway, while at our Wednesday hand-sewing group this week, someone picked a thread off my clothes. I don’t know why — I cannot explain how my brain works the way it does — but a mental image jumped into my head.
In my flash-forward vision of the future, I was laid out in my casket, dressed all in black (of course thinner/younger/prettier than I am now, but then this is MY vision). My quilting friends were lined up to pay their last respects at the visitation, and as each one passed by me, they solemnly stuck a piece of thread ONTO my clothes. What a last tribute!
And I feel I should add, because this is the 2nd time in two weeks that I have mentioned “my funeral” — I feel good, I am in good health, I don’t walk anywhere close to banana peels, I look both ways before crossing streets. Maybe it’s turning 60 this year. Maybe it’s because it’s autumn and the leaves dried up and fell off the trees. Maybe it’s because I looked in the mirror. I DON’T KNOW! But if you are around when I pass on, be sure to tuck a thread into your purse or pants pocket before heading to the church.
–Sue
