featured in my dream last night. she was teaching me to sew a skirt for an anonymous child we were both fond of.
even though we were holding separate measures of material, we were working to fashion a single skirt for a small girl soon to receive it.
i was sitting next to her on the lumpy couch so i could watch and copy her skill as her hands moved deftly as they did.
i looked on at her, as she looked down at her hands weaving thread, stopping at times to show me how they lay loose and limber, yet always in control.
several times i attempted her ease, and pricked my fingers with the point of the needle beneath the cloth. i didn't show or tell her i had, because i didn't want her to see me fail, nor did i want her to think of herself as anything but a wonderful teacher.
we spent an entire afternoon happy this way.
and when i woke i checked my fingers for bruising and found only this dream in their clutches.
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