Little Bits. Of things. From several places. Some I can't even remember where they came from. Some melt my heart with my name written on their box - something tucked away into a box, sent my way. I'm guessing most sewing rooms are built this way. A girl likes to sew. Scraps of fabric are sent her way. Sometimes an old machine. It is like love construction - piece by piece, this little hobby has been built by others and their gifts. And then a grandma passes away. Oh. That box is brought in with a heavy heart. It sits for months and months un-opened. Knowing it is loved, knowing it has to wait. And then one day it is opened. Pins in medication bottles. Beads in animal medicine tins. 4H green fabric with a scarf pattern. WARNING & DO NOT TOUCH signs. Some, in my Grandma's handwriting. Old stuff. This. Is a piece of my peace.
